


It’ll Be Fine

by musingsofatransboy



Series: We’ll Make it Work [2]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Time Period, Davey likes Clingy Jack even if Jack hates it, I’m gonna put Sarah in this one more, Jack’s good at that, Jack’s real clingy, M/M, She likes to make fun of Davey, So’s Race, Spot’s onto them, We’ll Make it Work universe, and by stupid I mean i’ll Laugh at them, and like... all the newsies eventually, and making out, i have somethings planned I’m just gonna wait for stupid comments, obvi, sprace in the background, this is a lot of fluff, uhhh same tags as the other fic in this work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-05-09 03:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14708426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingsofatransboy/pseuds/musingsofatransboy
Summary: No one quite expected Jack Kelly to be the one to stay in a relationship. Hell, Jack didn’t expect it himself. But, he loved it more than he ever thought he would. And with the strike settled, what more did they have to worry about?





	1. Respirer Profondément

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the strike settled, the trio should probably be hittin’ the streets and getting back into business.

“I think I’m dyin’.”  


“Oh, quit gripin’. You ain’t dyin’.”  


“Says who?”  


“Crutchie, you’re not dyin’. It’s just… _really_ hot, and you’re wearin’ a million layers.”  


The three boys walked down the baking streets of Manhattan. Jack was surprised that their group hadn’t gone down to two yet. He figured David would be back in school by then, but Mr. Jacobs was still recovering. He thought that maybe, that’s what happened when you got older – it became a whole lot harder to heal at a ‘normal’ rate. If only he’d done a number on Snyder. Maybe the old man could’ve keeled over instead of snatching kids up left and right. But, he was gone, now. There was no need for worry. The streets felt a whole lot safer to the newsies and every other working kid in the city, knowing that Snyder was rotting behind bars for the rest of his life. Memories of the Refuge would stay exactly that – horrible memories that would transform themselves into nightmares when they got the chance. They lingered there, too. Even now, having been a few weeks, David had to wake Jack up from the gripping dreams, and Jack did the same with Crutchie and the other boys who’d been captured. However, in the mornings, whenever they were awake, they felt a weight off of their shoulders. They still had to work, and the steadily hot weather was brutal, but there wasn’t time wasted looking down the street, in the cloaked alleys, waiting for Snyder to appear and haul them off. And that was a start.  


“Aye, how many papes d’y’got?” Jack asked, not directed specifically at either of them. David began counting his immediately, Crutchie handing his off to Jack. The brunet counted six before looking at David.  


“I got nine left, why?”  


“Alright, Crutchie’s got six, you got nine, an’ I got…” he paused to count his own after handing the blond’s back. “Twelve. How many’s that?”  


“Twenty-seven,” David replied as he fixed the strap that laid across his shoulder, Jack nodding.  


“An’ ‘s early. We’s doin’ good.” ‘Early’, the sun closer and closer to the horizon, yet the heat wouldn’t lay up. “Maybe we’s can finish up an’ head on over t’Jacobi’s. Get somethin’ into you’s.” Jack tilted his head to the side, a curious sort of expression crossing his face. Crutchie nodded near immediately, David exhaling as he looked at his papers, then at the horizon.  


“The folk’s are waitin’ for me,” he began, his tone matching that of an apology, but Jack groaned, and it wasn’t hard to tell that the intention was merely to annoy David. The tallest of the three raised an eyebrow, having grown used to Jack’s antics. Then again, he wasn’t exactly _immune_. Another small huff came from the boy, followed by his shoe scuffing against the pavement, and David shook his head.  


“Look, Jack, doin’ that isn’t gonna change–”  


Another whine followed, Jack smacking David’s shoulder with a folded newspaper, earning one of his own along with a laugh. The blond joined in, nudging David in the side repeatedly. Eventually, his hands came up in defeat, the other boys cheering and calling out the headlines with ease. David had grown better at the feat. He wasn’t so afraid to lie, now, given his lessons from Jack. But not only that, having helped lead a strike seemed to garner more popularity with the people around the city. Kids, even the ones who’d picked on David in class, tried to buy papers from him, and with Jack at his side? Selling was a breeze. They had to buy far more than usual, and they had no problem getting rid of them. Jack had a blast, really. Time and time again, he told David how _great_ he felt. How it felt like he was his ‘old self’ again. And, each time, David would tell Jack that his ‘old self’ was only himself from maybe a month before, which earned him a set of narrowed eyes, and a tongue stuck in his direction. Sometimes, a swat to the arm. But, the jests always ended with a smile. God, that _smile._ David did everything he could to see a genuine one on Jack’s face at least once a day. And Jack?  


Jack had never felt happier. The lack of pressure from the strike felt like some chains had been taken off of him, and he made sure to voice his contentment almost daily. First, it was an even more chipper wake up call for the boys of the Lodge House – which now practically included David and Les, who’d begun spending even more time in the building. And while accomodations were hard at first, Les got a kick out of rooming with Crutchie. And Race. And Elmer. David wasn’t as keen with letting Les stay with the boys who seemed to cause much of the domestic troubles in the household. Just that morning, Elmer ran up to the nearest window and chucked Race’s cigar right on out of it. Most of the boys claimed it hit a bird. Crutchie was a good roommate for Les. The former strike leaders agreed that Les was like some mini-threat, a hybrid of Jack’s undying enthusiasm, (and slight impulsivity), and David’s brains; a double threat that paired well with Crutchie. Though Jack hadn’t wanted the blond selling papers just yet, he relented when the youngest Jacobs sibling offered to go with him. Les was getting better at it, too. (Better than David, but no one would outright say it. Except for Jack, which often garnered an offended scoff from the taller boy.)  


“Extra! Extra! Horrific crash on 17th! Riders terribly injured!” Jack shouted, just as a group of women walked by. He made himself look worried, sorrowful even. “‘Scuse me, ma’am’s, have any o’ yous heard the latest? Oh, the accident was god awful, I’s tellin’ you,” he shook his head with a pitiful frown, and within the following minutes, he was down to seven papers, and a palmful of nickels. He quickly pocketed them, smiling over at David and Crutchie. Despite growing more comfortable with lying, David was rolling his eyes at Jack. Crutchie on the other hand, was giving him a thumbs up, along with a cheeky grin.  


“I’m surprised you didn’t flirt t’sell them those,” David said, earning a look from Jack. He wouldn’t do that anymore. Not with David nearby, at least. The boy shook his head with an almost scandalised scoff, as though the idea of flirting with the girls was absolutely out of character for him, a preposterous notion that he would never so much as _think_ of even doing. David merely swatted at him with a rolled up newspaper, a laugh coming from the blond in their midst, and an annoyed huff coming from Jack. David, though, was now grinning, a mischievous sort of look in his eyes.  


“What’s with the huffing? Y’know, and I bet Crutchie could back me up here, but you act an awful lot like a cat.”  


“A _cat?_ An’ now why’s that?”  


“Yes! You do whatever you want, when y’want, and now you’re being all huffy with me–” David began, Jack gesturing to the paper in his hand.  


“Yeah, ‘cause y’smacked me with your paper!” He exclaimed, David chuckling the entire time as he nodded.  


“Alright, that’s fair enough. But still, Crutchie, am I wrong?” The boy asked, both turning towards the blond with a curious expression. It was clear how hard he was trying to hide his smile, and Jack just scoffed. Crutchie let out a small laugh, putting his free hand up in defense.  


“He’s tellin’ the truth! You do whatever y’want, an’ y’like botherin’ other people, an’ if you could you’d prolly sleep all day long,” he said, Jack crossing his arms before sticking up his middle finger at the both of them, earning an undignified snort from David, and a proper laugh from Crutchie. That ended the conversation, and soon enough, they were right back to selling. It was maybe another half hour of the work, before Jack noticed Crutchie slowing down. He didn’t think too much of it, until they had to stop for the blond, who’d taken to leaning against the brick wall of the closest store. Jack hurried over, then, his own satchel empty much like David’s, who’d came to Crutchie’s side when he noticed Jack crouched beside him.  


“Aye, Crutch, what’s th’matter?” Jack asked, his dark brow knitting together as he put a hand on his shoulder. The other let out an airy laugh, his face flushed more than it had been before.  


“I’s just hot, I need a second,” he breathed out, reaching a hand up to remove his cap and dab at the now dripping sweat at his forehead. Jack nodded slowly, sitting beside him for a moment as he thought.  


“Hey, hey, it’s fine. You just… take a breather, alright? In an’ out, in an’ out,” he repeated, the blonde looking the slightest bit annoyed by the other’s mantra, but following his advice. It wasn’t long before Jack pulled Crutchie up, (despite David saying that it’d be best if they waited a little longer,) and began to walk him home. It wasn’t like they had any more papers to sell; that would be a different story for sure. At least now, they didn’t have to worry that they’d really be losing out on much. Pulitzer would be eating their losses, and that was plenty fine with them once in a while. The walk seemed a whole lot longer, now. Crutchie was moving slower, and so of course, the others were, too. Jack didn’t mind, because the sun was setting and painting the sky just how he liked it. If only the heat would go down with it. Maybe he wouldn’t’ve been cut out for Santa Fe, he often found himself thinking in weather like this. The sun bearing down even brighter, with hardly anywhere to hide. At least the buildings and smog of New York created a thin veil from total heat from the sun. Santa Fe? Exposed, and far from the relative comfort of the Lodge House. Jack would never survive.  


The building in mention soon came into view, the taller boys pretending not to notice the sigh of relief that fell from Crutchie’s lips. The tallest opened the door, Jack leading Crutchie inside and helping him to the couch before leaning against the wall to count up his change. He hummed, pocketing a majority of the coins in his back pocket, and the rest in his front. David quirked an eyebrow at the sight, curious as to why he separated them.  


“How much did you make?” He asked, Jack looking over and quickly thinking up a reply. He shrugged before telling the truth.  


“A dollar ten,” he said, David then gesturing to his pockets. The antsy look should’ve stopped his speech from continuing, but it didn’t, the boy being too curious for his own good.  


“Why put the change in different pockets…?”  


“I _didn’t_.” Jack’s voice was firm, though his eyes darted to Crutchie, who laid eyes closed on the couch. The brunet’s head jerked towards the stairs that would lead to his room, David catching his drift and following after the other. As the door shut behind them, the only sound was the soft jangling of loose coins in the pair’s pockets. Jack reached into his back pocket before pulling a small tin from one of his drawers, a louder metal against metal _‘clank’_ sounding as he opened it. Inside lay a few dollars worth of coins, the money from the boy’s back pocket being added to the collection. David tilted his head, and Jack filled in the quiet before the other could ask once again.  


“I keeps most o’ my change in ‘ere. It’s for the boys, mostly. Some of ‘em have rough sellin’ says, so’s I gotta make sure they can eat. ‘Specially when the headline’s bad. An’ in the winter we needs new socks or blankets, some gloves when the others get too worn out. ‘S for the boys. An’ sometimes I think of usin’ it for a ticket t’Santa Fe, but ah… I ain’t goin’ there no more. So for now, ‘s for the boys. Crutchie don’t like the idea much, so’s I couldn’t talk ‘bout it ‘round him or else he’d give me an earful,” he explained, tucking the tin away. David paused, nodding some. He figured Jack wouldn’t want his chastising remarks, opting to keep them to himself. The thoughts travelled, going off into a tangent, one that was only halted when he felt strong arms wrap around him, and a head against his chest. It was hot out, yes. But, David didn’t think he’d ever get bothered by Jack’s embraces. He pushed him back to remove his satchel, before pulling him back into a warm hug. The shorter let out a small laugh, light and airy, before he sighed.  


“Y’know, it’s nice t’be able t’breathe after a while of feelin’ like I can’t.” The words rung in David’s ear, having not expected something of the sort to come out of Jack. Granted, the boy did have a way with words, a way that always managed to pique David’s interest.  


“How do you mean?”  


“It’s like… we had t’worry ‘bout the strike. We had t’worry ‘bout not gettin’ caught. I was worried we’d end up in the Refuge all over again. I don’t think you’d last in there, half o’ them boys don’t.” There was a pause as the two glanced at each other, a solemn sort of recognition before Jack leaned up to press a kiss to David’s lips.  


“Now? I don’t gotta worry ‘bout nothin’ other than gettin’ caught. An’ frankly? I ain’t all that worried,” he shook his head, pushing David towards the bed carefully and laying beside him the moment they both met the mattress. The taller wound his arms around Jack all over again, pulling him close before shedding off their layers of clothes, leaving them in their pants and undershirts sheerly due to the growing heat. Gentle fingertips caressed the now exposed skin, before the two let out small sighs, eyes falling shut.  


“I missed sellin’. I’s glad we’s back to it,” Jack mumbled, yawning stiffly before David nodded, carding his fingers through his partner’s already messy hair.  


“I know you are. So am I, really. My father isn’t doin’ any better. We really needed the money,” he said, cupping Jack’s sun kissed cheeks and smiling.  


“You’re getting a lot of freckles,” he commented softly as his lips pressed against the other’s, cutting off any possible remark or abashed comment he could’ve made. The kiss itself was short, the pair pulling apart and nuzzling each other before it could even continue very far. But, the smiles on their faces proved to one another that that didn’t really matter.  


Jack inhaled deeply before looking up at David. “I love you.”  


“I love you, too,” David replied, brushing the hair from his own forehead before leaving a kiss on Jack’s. “How about we try and get some sleep?” He suggested when he noticed the sun slowly dipping beneath the horizon, the sky a mottled indigo and peach as it made way for night. Jack made no attempts at disagreeing, rubbing his eyes barely before he curled closer to David, letting his own little darkness come over him.  


“Goodnight, Jackie…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I’m back, school’s been out almost an entire month (10 days from today), and I’ve got a few stories in the works. Thanks to any and everyone who’s been waiting to read this.


	2. Enfants Malades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good times can only last for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh longass chapter it’s currently 3:33 am you’re Welcome

The heat wave was letting up, slowly but surely. As summer came to its final month, the air lost the sticky humidity that it seemed to be so inclined to, which all the newsies were grateful for. No one liked selling when their clothes were sticking to their backs, and no one liked buying from kids who reeked of body odor and stale clothes. Though, admittedly, some boys would much rather deal with the heat than the impending onslaught of bitter winter air. The heat waves that were ever so common meant that Spot would be a bit more lenient about letting people into Brooklyn so they could have a swim, and the Manhattan newsies were the first to jump at the opportunity. And it worked out in the end, too, because if the winters were rough enough, Brooklyn boys would occasionally hang out in the Duane Street Lodging House; Spot often rooming with Race, kids like Brick and Rusty taking over the twins’ room, (which was chaos in its own respect). More often than not, the place looked like a higher quality version of the Refuge; three or four kids to a bed, overall a madhouse. But, no one quite minded when the chill seeped through the walls and windows, making the interior of the building nearly as cold as the outdoors they were trying to escape.  


September through October were fine selling months. Given the cooler weather, the boys didn’t mind staying out in the sun during the middle of the day. The warmth on their backs was welcome for once, and people always seemed more interested now that the newsies had even more energy than they had prior. Add that, on top of their victory with the strike the month prior, the newsies just couldn’t lose their vigor. The strike garnered not only new attention and even respect for the newsies, but a few new kids as well. There was Ace, a gangly shoe-shiner with a mop of red hair just like Albert – Jack apparently knew him when he was younger, and the redhead even bore a gift for the boy; a tattered red bandana. Finally, there was Peanuts, who’d supposedly run away from home to join the circus. They were younger, too, Ace being eleven, and Peanuts… well, he said he was twelve, but he looked about fourteen or fifteen. Not that it really mattered; Jack figured that if they could hawk headlines, they were just fine. The new meat was well needed, as the boys of the Lodging House would learn soon enough. The news had come as a surprise, and frankly, no one wanted to hear it.  


“You’s _what?_ ” Racetrack had asked David, the cracking of his last word only adding to the effect. The taller boy had come over once he, Les, and Jack had finished selling for the day, and while Les was occupied talking to Crutchie about the latter’s time at the Refuge, David was being near interrogated by the newsies.  


“Leaving… My father. His arm’s healed. They aren’t lettin’ him work at the factory again, say he’s gettin’ too old, but he found a job at–”  


“You– you can’t leave! You’s a newsie now!”  


“Race–”  


“You’re leavin’?” Another newsie piped up, David recognising the voice as Specs’.  


“Did’ya tell Jack…?”  


“Tell Jack what?” Came the ever familiar voice, and frankly, one David had been dreading. No, he hadn't. He’d planned to, as they were coming back home. But, the boy had begun spinning some tale to tell Les. David only really half heard it – some story about the time Spot and him had to save Race’s rear when he nearly drowned in the East River. His thoughts were solely on how he’d tell Jack he wasn’t going to be a newsie anymore. Even now, the words didn’t come to him.  


“Jack…” David began, a small sigh coming from him. Race seemed to be very good at getting to the point, turning to Jack without hesitation.  


“Davey’s leavin’ us!” He cried, a silence falling over the newsies near him. Jack’s eyes met David’s, only for a fleeting moment before the other glanced down.  


“My father’s arm has gotten better. He found a job in a soup kitchen, and it’s gettin’ to be steady money. So… we don’t have to sell anymore. And school starts up in a few weeks, Les an’ I need to go back,” he explained, frowning at the sight of Jack’s unamused expression. “Look, Jack, I love sellin’ with you and the guys. An’ we’ve talked about this, remember? Just because I’m goin’ back to school doesn’t mean I won’t see any of you. I’ll visit everyday. Hopefully. An’ I’ll still live in the same place–” He tried, Jack tossing down his satchel and nodding as he moved to walk towards his bedroom. Immediately, David was following after him, ignoring the questions that came from the rest of the newsies.  


“Jack, _Jack..!_ ” The boy in question stopped just short of his bedroom, turning around to face the taller boy with an expression that could only be described as hardheaded. It was a classic move of his; to try and look tough in the face of something that could hurt him.  


“Yeah…?”  


“What d’you mean, ‘yeah’? I– I don’t want to leave, y’know. Maybe I could sell once in a while, sure. But once school starts up, I’ll only really be able to on the weekends,” David said, the words growing softer as the sentences continued. Jack was silent, until he scuffed the toe of his shoe on the floor, and nodded barely.  


“I ain’t gonna stop you, obviously. I thinks… it’d be best if y’went back. Just ‘cause you deserve it, y’know. I’s just bein’ dramatic, that’s all. We’ll get t’see ya, an’ you’ll visit… can’t stay over a whole lot, though.” Jack paused, his brows drawing into each other. “This your last year?” He asked then, sounding a bit hopeful, which only continued when David nodded.  


“Yeah. I mean, after that it’s college. I was looking into the ones here, though. Columbia is at the top of my list,” he said, a faint smile on his face. Jack just raised an eyebrow, prompting David to continue. “It’s in upper Manhattan. I mean, it’s an Ivy League school–”  


“Oh, no, you’s gonna get in. Definitely,” Jack cut in, “There ain’t no way you can’t. You’s like some genius,” he then added, smiling a bit at the idea. “An’ no, I ain’t just sayin’ that ‘cause we’s a thing an’ whatnot. You’s a damn genius, really. I betcha you was top o’ your class when you was in school, right? At least near there. They’s bound t’accept ya,” he finished, sounding oh so certain of his words. Why _wouldn’t_ they let him in? David looked at him, a doubtful look in his honey eyes, one that Jack could only huff at.  


“What?”  


“That look in your eyes. You’re thinkin’ you ain’t gonna get in.”  


“Well, Jackie. Think about it. Hundreds of kids apply t’these schools. Kids who _didn’t_ have to leave for the last month or so of school,” David began. “They’re who they’ll look at first. My application is beneath that, and with my luck it’ll get swept under the rug or something–”  


“Davey Jacobs, the whole ‘woe is me’ thing is gettin’ on my nerves,” Jack interrupted yet again, a confused sort of look on the other’s face.  


“This isn’t–”  


“You’s still got a whole ‘nother year. They ain’t gonna kick your application nowhere ‘cause you’ll be busy workin’ your ass off this year. You’s a hard worker, an’ you’s smart. You gots more brains in ya than half them scholars workin’ there. You’s _gonna_ get in, Davey. An’ if not in there, in somewhere just as good, or even better. Got it?” Jack said, only now noticing that he’d taken to gripping David’s forearms as he spoke; a means of keeping the other from interrupting or turning his attention elsewhere. The room was silent as they stared at one another, Jack with his usual determination that made it near impossible for David to try and refute it.  


With a resigned smile, David nodded slightly, reaching a hand up then to knock the cap off of Jack’s head, and ruffling the mop of dark hair. The smile turned into a slight frown as he recoiled, leaving Jack looking rather offended.  


“Whatisit?” He asked, touching his own hair then before hearing David laugh under his breath. _“What?”_  


“You need a bath,” David said simply, Jack picking up his hat only to swat at his partner. “It’s true. Your hair’s all sweaty an’ gross.”  


“Well damn. I apologize for gettin’ hot while I’s workin’.” He rolled his eyes, David giving him a playfully chastising look before clearing his throat.  


“Why don’t you come over to my house? I betcha my folks’ll wanna see you. And Les and Sarah miss you. Well, mostly Sarah, since Les practically has a second home here.” David furrowed his brow briefly. “Is he good when he’s here?” That earned a proper snort from Jack.  


“Davey, your definition o’ good an’ mine are two very different things. He hasn’t set the place on fire or nothin’, so I say he’s doin’ just fine,” he relayed, then ran his fingers through his hair once again. “Guess I’ll have t’come over then. Do I gotta wash up beforehand?” David looked him over, then went towards the window, scrunching his nose. (Jack noticed him doing it more often, now, even though the taller of the pair didn’t even seem to realize what he’d picked up.)  


“Well… it depends. You wanna stay the night if y’can?” He asked. “Because if you stay the night, then you can wash at my house. If you just wanna stay for dinner, then I’d _appreciate_ you washing up some, yes.” The annoyed look on Jack’s face was enough to warrant a smug little grin on David’s face, watching as the boy trudged off to a room down the hallway. The sound of water splashing in a basin did, admittedly, surprise David. He half expected Jack to leave the room and come back a few minutes later pretending he’d cleaned himself. Just to make sure, David followed the sound, leaning in the doorway. Jack simply stood in front of the sink, a dirty rag in his hand as he scrubbed his face clean, some of the layers of dust and dirt coming off without a problem. The boy turned around, startled by the sight of David.  


“‘S that better?” He asked rhetorically, throwing the cloth back into the sink before David sighed.  


“My initial complaint was your hair,” he teased, Jack raising an eyebrow. He went back over to the sink, managing to get the water into his hair and rinsing through it. The water briefly turned a sad mule brown as it fell from the brunet’s head, thanks to the dust that collected in it. David went to make a remark, but after Jack grabbed a towel to dry his hair, he saw the fabric twirling between the other’s hand, and a trouble-bearing glint in his blue eyes.  


“Jack, don’t you dare–” The warning was cut short by a yelp as Jack whipped the towel’s end towards David, giggling coming from the former when the latter jumped out of the way.  


“There. I’s all clean. Like a new man. Happy?” Jack hummed and took the towel back, drying off his hair properly and tossing the fabric back where he’d gotten it. “Let’s get goin’ then yeah?” David narrowed his eyes at the nonchalant attitude his partner spoke with, but rolled his eyes, nodding and leading the way back downstairs. The room was relatively calm – Crutchie sitting on the couch with Les and some of the new kids, regaling them with tales of older selling days, Race in the corner playing poker with some of the older boys, (Jack could make out Bumlet’s mop of black hair, Albert’s red, and Kid Blink’s eyepatch without issue), JoJo, Finch, and Specs chattering excitedly about something. Nothing was out of sorts. The pair joined the fray, going over to the couch both to listen to the story, and to get Les back home.  


“So there he is, standin’ in the balcony an’ singin’ along, when– oh, hey fellas,” Crutchie said as he looked up, the rest of the newsies turning towards David and Jack. The latter smiled, tipping his cap.  
“Heya, Crutch. What story y’tellin’? Is it the one about the bird landin’ on ya that one mornin’?” He teased, grinning then at the reaction.  


_“No,_ it’s th’one about you takin’ me t’the theatre for the first time. Remember that?” He asked, Jack humming fondly at the memory.  


“Yeah. It was right after we met. Dare I say Miss Medda likes you more than me,” he nudged his friend, who gave him a smile that could get him out of most any trouble.  


“‘Course she does. I gots more personality than you do, an’ the smile always gets the ladies.” Laughter sprouted between the two, tapering off as they shook their heads. David spoke then, informing Les that it was time to go. The younger boy only really moved when his brother added that Jack would be joining them. Crutchie raised an eyebrow.  


“You sleepin’ over there again?”  


“Nah, just stayin’ for a bit. Say hi to his folks an’ whatnot. I ain’t gonna leave _them_ ,” Jack nodded towards the gambling quartet in the corner, “in charge when we gots new recruits.” As if on cue, the group burst into chaos. It was unclear what had happened at first, until an undignified hollar left Race as he chased Albert, the other boys laughing wildly.  


“Albert, get back– _get away from th’window!”_ Race exclaimed. With that, Jack got up to intervene, seeing the redhead dangling one of the blond’s cigars out the now open window. He strolled over, Bumlets and Blink snickering.  


“Albert’s a sore loser,” Bumlets offered as explanation, Jack shaking his head barely and strolling towards the others.  


“Alright, alright, break it up you two. Give ‘im back his cigar,” he sighed, the redhead frowning miserably. “Racer, what th’hell did you bet him?”  


“Nothin’ bad! Now he just has t’sleep with Blink an’ Skittery for the next two nights,” he relayed as he stuck the cigar back between his teeth. “I won fair an’ square, Jack,” he added for extra measure. Jack didn’t even comment, instead going over to the door, where David had already gathered Les, and was simply waiting for the other. He turned once to face Crutchie again.  


“See why I ain’t stayin’ overnight? Keep them from maulin’ each other will ya? The best y’can,” he said as parting, before exiting the Lodging House and stepping onto the brisker streets. Les ran ahead as usual, David not as worried now that he didn’t have to fear Snyder or similar coming and beating on them, or hauling them off to who knows where. As long as Les stayed in his line of sight, he was fine with it. Jack stuck his hands in his pockets; a habit the pair had picked up so as to keep from accidentally reaching out and holding the other’s. That alone was hard enough to resist. It’d become a bit of a habit itself, actually. Holding hands whenever they got the chance. It was just simple – they didn’t have to worry about anything other than getting caught, or their hands getting tired or sweaty. (Not that either of the latter ever stopped them.)  


It was annoying that they still had to hide. Jack had made that very clear a few days after the strike had ended:  


_“It ain’t_ fair.”  


_“You always say that.”  
_

_“Yeah, well it’s true. I’ve spent most o’ my life hidin’ from Snyder an’ the damn Refuge. An’ now he’s gone but I still gotta worry about this! I mean, it’s stupid, right?”  
_

_“I guess it is..”  
_

_“You_ guess? _”  
_

_“Okay, okay. I know it is. But, we just have to deal with it..”_  


David remembered the conversation clearly, and so had the one who started it. They’d heard of a man who’d been arrested for sodomy merely four years before, a man that David had actually read the works of a few times in his teenage years. Jack had asked for more details, intrigued, frankly. Much to his disappointment, Jack only learned that David didn’t actually know anything other than the fact that the man had simply been arrested, and that he was quite a fan of his works. Jack was almost tempted to try and read whatever he’d written with the hopes that he’d gain some… knowledge, on the life he and Davey lived. (David told him otherwise, just because he knew Jack would ask upwards of a million questions with each page.)  


“Y’ever think about it?” The boy asked, earning a confused look from the other.  


“Think about… what?”  


“Two things, actually. One, ‘bout what that guy got arrested for–” The expression of proper embarrassment that took over the confusion was amusing, and Jack paused for a moment to take it in. “That, an’ a world we we don’t gotta hide. Or maybe even a place where we wouldn’t have to, y’know? The boys still don’t know, but they’s gonna find out sooner or later ain’t they? Unless y’don’t want ‘em to. Actually, I don’t even know if I want ‘em to. I know they wouldn’t care. Well, a few that wouldn’t for sure. But… still. It ain’t safe I guess,” he rambled. David was silent before he turned back towards Jack.  


“I think we could find a place. Maybe there’s an apartment or something for sale. I mean, those cost _money_ , but I’m sure we could figure it out. Maybe Miss Medda could help somehow. As for the first one, I’ve… thought about it once or twice. When I first realized, it was after we heard about Wilde being arrested, so I thought back to that. Then, when we got more serious.. Dreams. Y’know,” David cleared his throat, his cheeks beet red as his head turned to the ground after they spoke. Jack simply gave a ‘me too’, before the pair continued to walk in virtual silence. Once in a while they’d respond to Les, or make some comment about a nearby shop or similar, but other than that, it was quiet, and neither complained about it.  


The Jacobs’ Residence was just as nice as every other time Jack had visited. It was warm, pleasantly so, and smelled almost of a bakery. The only difference was the sight of Mayer, who instead of being wrapped up in a cast, was wandering the house with his paper, while Esther was busy dicing potatoes near a pot of boiling water. Their attention was piqued as they heard the door swing open, glancing over and smiling as Les bounded inside.  


“Hello, sweetheart, David,” Mrs. Jacobs cooed, stopping and wiping her hands on her apron as she bent down togive Les a small kiss onthe forehead. The younger boy’s nose scrunched as a faint laugh left him, followed by footsteps as he hurried to greet his sister. Mrs. Jacobs raised an eyebrow barely at the sight of Jack, her smile not fading.  


“And hello t’you too, Jack. Haven’t seen much of you in a while,” she spoke, moving over to place her hand gently on his shoulder.  


“‘S nice t’see you too, Mrs. Jacobs. Hope y’don’t me comin’ over,” Jack replied contently, always trying to be a charmer in the face of David’s parents. The woman shook her head, going back to the cooking as Mayer walked over and shook Jack’s hand without hesitation.  


“I have to say, young man. I’m incredibly impressed by you and my David’s work. It’s a pleasure to get to say that _the_ Jack Kelly occasionally takes his meals with us,” he praised, Jack shaking his hand and smiling awkwardly, but proudly.  


“Oh, Davey’s the one with all the brains in that whole thing. I was just louder so people listened t’me better,” he joked, Mayer instantly shaking his head. 

“Don’t be so humble, you and him worked together with your friends to get what you rightfully deserved.” The words weren’t ones to be argued, and delivered with a warm smile. Jack couldn’t help but smile back, nodding.  


“Yessir,” he hummed, Mayer going back towards the chair that was clearly his own, and in his place came Sarah, looking as vibrant as ever. She didn’t pause as she moved past David with a brief ‘hello’, and went to hug Jack.  


“It’s been a while, Jack,” she sighed, pulling back after the embrace lingered a few moments. Jack nodded, Sarah continuing eagerly. “Where have you been?”  


“Yeah, it has. An’ we gots some fresh meat down at the Lodgin’ House. Someone’s gotta make sure the place don’t burn down,” he joked, a laugh coming from the girl. The conversation between the older kids didn’t cease for some time – Sarah had taken up a job in a textile factory, rather proud of the new income that she brought in, and she’d even managed to get David to teach her more of what he’d been learning before he left school. (She was incredibly excited that the boy was going back, much for the same reason.) Jack didn’t know what to do when he got wrapped up in their little conversations:  


“Jack! What’s the moon called?” Sarah asked, a dumbfounded sort of expression landing a spot on Jack’s expression, and the laugh that left her didn’t help. “It’s Latin name is Luna. It’s hundreds of thousands of miles away, and it’s this.. What was it, David?”  


“It’s a natural satellite of Earth. It orbits around us like we do the Sun. That takes about a month. And it’s in synchronous rotation with Earth–”  


“English, Davey.”  


“What– oh. Synchronous in this case means we always see the same side of the moon. And y’know how you like the stars? There’s a _whole_ lot I could tell you about those. And Santa Fe. Well, the desert,” David rambled, and that’s how their conversation went until supper. Esther asked Jack about school himself, David cutting in with a hushed _’Mom,’_ and the subject wasn’t brought up to Jack again. Instead, he talked about what he’d been up to at the Lodging House, and how he had to keep an eye on more kids than ever.  


“I feel like their mother,” he’d joked with a shake of his head, and as dinner came to an end, and the night began to roll in, Jack figured he’d be best to leave. As he placed his bowl away, Esther stopped him, a maternal smile coming over her.  


“If you do need help with anything, you tell David to tell me. I’ll do what I can, alright?” She asked, making Jack promise her before she could let him go. And, as the weeks passed, Jack wished he didn’t have to take her up on the offer.  


As the middle of the month rolled around, Jack and the rest of the gang grew to see less of the Jacobs’ boys, given that school had started up once more. Not only that, but a few of the ‘new’ newsies weren’t quite prepared for the weather that came. Well, very few of the boys did. For mid-September, the air was as biting as late October, and with the sudden chill, more than a handful fell into the grips of a cold. Managing a houseful of kids was hard enough, add a bunch of sick ones on top, with no means of quarantine? Lord, was it a nightmare. More so when Jack himself fell ill, along with Racetrack. Their family could attest, they were the worst when they were sick. Whining about the ordeal, never quite getting comfortable. It was miserable for everyone involved. But now, there was worry afoot. Having so many boys down wasn’t a good sign – granted when they got sick, more often than not they’d use it to their advantage when selling. If they didn’t want to leave their bed, something was most definitely wrong.  


David made note of this, too. He found himself wondering what the hell Jack could be up to these days, given that he hadn’t even seen Jack on the fire escape outside his window at night, nor at their door when selling was usually done for. Even his frequent weekend visits had suddenly ceased, and when Race (or anyone, for that matter) didn’t come to the door explaining why, the taller brunet began to worry. He knew that if something was wrong, Jack probably would try and hide it. That’s how he dealt with his problems, and David did his best to keep him from such. With the day hardly beginning, and no school to worry about – bless the weekends – he decided to take a trip to the Lodging House, just to see what the boys had gotten themselves into. When he arrived, a million more questions popped into his head, not included the ones that sprouted thanks to his nerves on the walk over.  


A man exited the front doors, holding what appeared to be a bucket full of water and rags in his aged hands. His eyes were kind enough, if not a bit frazzled. He didn’t even seem to register that David was standing there until the boy cleared his throat. The water in the bucket sloshed as the elder turned quickly, a startled laugh leaving him, followed by him furrowing his brow.  


“Oh, I didn’t see you there. Who ah.. Who are you, young man?” He asked, a tense, awkward silence filling the small gap before David replied. 

“My name’s David, I’m a friend of Jack’s…? Who’re you?” 

“Mr. Kloppmann. I used to run this place, but ah, Jack an’ the rest o’ them fellas said it wasn’t a problem t’do themselves. Then I get Albert runnin’ t’fetch me ‘cause apparently some of ‘em got sick.” A sigh left Kloppmann as he trekked inside, David following right away. He tried to follow, though it took him a while longer, given he was busy surveying the area to see who exactly to avoid.  


“Is Jack alright? Can I see him?” The elder nodded, but of course, when David got into the other’s bedroom, all he could do was frown. Jack was curled up in bed, looking entirely uncomfortable. His hair was in disarray, the strands closest to his forehead and neck sticking to the skin with sweat. His eyes weren’t even open, which David was a bit pleased with. He didn’t want to see him that restless quite yet. Continuing with the brief examination, David came to realise that Jack was _actually_ in proper pajamas. Ill-fitting, albeit, but he assumed it was to try and alleviate some discomfort. The boy took a few hesitant steps closer, Kloppmann making use of such and handing him a damp cloth in passing, before going to check on the others in the next room. David crouched by the edge of the bed, making sure the rag wasn’t entirely soaked before lightly dabbing it across Jack’s forehead. The boy stirred, a whine leaving him.  


“I’s fine… leave me alone,” he huffed, David pushing some of his damp hair back. That got him to open his eyes, just a bit. Even so, they seemed to light up at the sight of the other.  


“Davey? What’re you doin’ here…?” He asked then, a hand coming up to rub his eye. David didn’t stop in his movements, continuing to wipe the cloth along Jack’s hairline and neck to try and cool him down.  


“I was worried is all. You weren’t visiting a lot, then you stopped comin’ over on the weekend, so. I decided to see why,” he replied softly, his free hand moving into Jack’s hair as he smoothed it down and away from his face again. “You look like hell,” he then added with a teasing little smile.  


“I feel like it too. Hate bein’ sick…” he grumbled childishly, leaning into the touch. “I miss seein’ ya… how’s school goin’?”  


“It’s fine, actually. A few kids’ve asked me about the strike, actually. Even about you. Crazy, huh? I mean, I’m not popular or anything like that. But, I’ve got that to talk about. My classes are going good. I have to do an extra one to make up for what I missed while I was gone, but it really isn’t that hard.” Jack nodded, seeming to relax further as David spoke. His eyes could hardly stay open, in fact, David quieting when he noticed. He gently brushed the tips of his fingers through the other’s hair, pushing strands behind his ear and trying to tidy it to some extent. He didn’t mind this quiet, but something in him wouldn’t settle. What if Jack didn’t get better? He’d never actually _seen_ Jack sick. He saw him hurt in more ways than one – busting his knuckles on walls and crying until no sound could come out and his cheeks were red for an hour after. Sickness wasn’t even something he thought about when it came to Jack, and yet, it fell him without issue. He absolutely hated it.  


“I wish I could help you…” He sighed, trailing the back of his hand along his partner’s cheek. He stirred some, thinking.  


“Maybe y’could… ask y’mother for soup or somethin’. Kloppmann saids it’s important we eat even though none of us wanna,” Jack said, still not opening his eyes, but tilting his head towards David’s hand, who nodded.  


“I can do that, definitely. It’ll probably be ready before supper, too. So I can bring it– bless you,” David recoiled as the other sneezed, thankfully mannered enough to duck his head into his arm as he did, concealing both the sneeze and the annoyed whine that followed suit. It was only twenty minutes later, and David figured he’d best go. He didn’t really want to leave Jack’s side, but then again, he had a task to finish. Or start, he wasn’t sure. As he left, he gathered number of how many boys were sick, just so his mother had an idea of how many she ahd to cook for. Granted the idea of asking his mother to make enough food for five people, then add on the five in their own house, had David wiping the sweat off his palms, he had a feeling she’d help.  


And he was right. Not only that, but Sarah joined as well, making sure everything ran efficient;y as ever. The word that the boys had fallen ill wasn’t just news either, Esther turning it into a lesson for Les, given that the youngest hadn’t exactly been listening when she asked daily for him to bundle up. Day after day he’d come home without his mittens or scarf, even without his coat one time, sending the woman into a fit as she tried to make him listen.  


The soup was delivered, David taking advice he’d received from Kloppmann to simply keep his distance. It was wise enough really, and besides, David didn’t want to get himself, and consequently his family, sick. So, for a whole week, even closer to October now, the boy reluctantly kept to himself. It was strictly school, then home, and his bedroom. He even went as far as to take a different route on the way home so as to avoid passing near Duane Street. (He didn’t want to be tempted to check in.) The little quarantine truly didn’t last long. The next Saturday, exactly a week since he’d last visited, David decided it was time that he get to see the boys. Even if he was really going to simply see Jack – not that he’d admit that to anyone but. The walk seemed slower, but he didn’t think much of it. Entering the building was a different story. Some of the boys he’d seen on bedrest the week prior – the twins, and a redhead that he still couldn't remember the name of – were mulling around the living area as though they hadn’t looked near dead. A hopeful sparkle flickered in David’s eyes, one that was caught by Crutchie as the pari met on the stairs, and died out the moment their gaze met. Crutchie, who was usually all gritty smiles, looked distressed. His lips were pulled into a frown, and his eyes kept trying to find the floor. David couldn’t help but think the worst, yet Crutchie stopped him before he could panic wholly.  


“Hey, Davey… look. Jack really ain’t in the mood t’be seein’ no one right now,” he said, shaking his head as the other asked why. “He… um, ain’t feelin’ too hot is all.” David’s brow knit together at the blond’s words. Which, in a mere second, he ignored. Moving past Crutchie, he quickly stepped into Jack’s room, only to be confronted with a sight just as bad as before. Jack was sat in bed, his knees drawn to his chest, and his fists tangled in his hair. He wasn’t crying, no. At least, not anymore. David could see the occasional shudder, or hear a hitch in the boy’s breath as he tried to calm down, or the strained sniffling that followed almost every breath. He stepped closer.  


“Jackie…? What’s th’matter?” He asked gently, sitting in front of him on the bed. Jack didn’t hesitate as he let his hands fall, his blotchy face coming into full view. With a small sigh, he began explaining.  


“Remember that kid? The one who y’talked to when I was in the Refuge, Copper? He, ah… he visited. Said he had news or somethin’. Turns out, the other kid, Scraps, the string bean? He got sick, too,” he said, his voice soft and weak, wobbling towards the end as a few new tears traveled his warm skin. “He didn’t get better.” Silence. David sat up a bit straighter, eyes widening slightly as he realized what Jack meant.  


“Oh…” he breathed, immediately pulling the other into a hug. It felt like a bag of bones or some ragdoll at first, given that Jack didn’t do anything but let David move him. Then, it was a vice, his arms coming around his torso and not once letting go as he hid his face in the other’s shoulder. David could feel his shirt growing damp, running his hand up and down Jack’s back slowly. He couldn’t tell what was worse. The fact that the boy had died, or the fact that he died not long after being released from the hell that was the Refuge. The two thoughts wouldn’t settle in David’s head, a frown of his own creasing his forehead as he hugged Jack tighter.  


“Jack.. Jackie, don’t worry. It’ll be okay, I promise. Okay?” He said softly, but the words felt almost artificial. He hadn’t experienced death quite like Jack had, and he knew that the boy was trying his damnedest to pretend he wasn’t hurting, but he couldn’t _not_ try and console him. He found himself petting his hair, something he knew would work to an extent, as he simply talked. Just to distract Jack from the problem at hand for a few moments. It wasn’t exactly what he’d planned for the visit, but it wasn’t like he minded. Really, on his and on Jack’s behalf, he just wished September would end.


	3. Se Calmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David’s wish came true with the passing month, much to his relief. And, he had a few more in store in the coming days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ it’s taken me a million years to update I’m s o r r y here you go a very fluffy chapter.
> 
> It’s 1:30 A.M. I’m tired I’ve been up since,, 10:30 working to finish this chapter.

David’s wish came true with the passing month, much to his relief. As the weeks passed, and the weather remained as chilly as it had, the fallen newsies slowly but surely began to get better. The older ones took the longest – Racetrack was back to his old self after Kloppmann kept him in bed rest for the remainder of the time, much to the blond’s dismay. (Really, nearly every day was spent with Racetrack trying to bribe the old man to let him leave his room, or that “c’mon! Ten dollars says I’ll be feelin’ fine by supper!” He hadn’t.) Jack took the longest out of them. And not physically, not exactly.  


The news of his old friend’s passing took a toll on him, enough that his recovery was halted and slowed down like a rusted machine — dilapidated and ready to be torn apart for scrap metal. A pounding headache settled onto the boy’s undiminished ailments, and a constant complaint that his chest felt tight mingled along with them. He wouldn’t leave the room, not for meals, to get changed or washed, or even to open the window when he felt hot. Most of the boys worried he wouldn’t actually _get_ better. They’d been proven wrong by Jack before. He’d been hauled off to the Refuge, something they hadn’t expected to happen again. Him not recovering wasn’t what they assumed, but their doubts began to settle in, even if none of them wanted to admit it.  


“What’s wrong with Jack now?”  


“Same old, same old, Ace. He ain’t doin’ too hot,” Race had said, almost a sigh despite his present nerves. “Scraps an’ him were the bestest of friends. ‘Course he’s gonna be sad..” The question wasn’t asked again, and the boys only hoped that their leader would recover. October felt promising. David visited a bit more after the news of Scraps’ passing, admittedly just to check on Jack’s wellbeing. His clothes turned from unbuttoned blue flannels and open vests, to buttoned up white shirts covered by thicker cotton vests, and on some occasions, a pair of knitted gloves. His visits did tend to warm Jack up a bit, the boy appearing livelier and more willing to talk. Still, it took Jack until the middle of October to be back to his old self. Every time he visited, David saw the transformation. It was certainly gradual, but once in a while there’d be a more noticeable smile on Jack’s face after a stupid joke, or a distinct grandiosity to his gestures as he spoke. _That_ was the Jack that the boys, and David, wanted to see. And frankly, his recovery couldn't have come at a better time. David wasn’t sure how he’d let the word of his birthday slip. He didn’t want the boys making a big deal out of it, especially not Jack, and yet, he couldn’t help but blurt it out when he noticed the progress Jack had made physically – emotionally, he still was… iffy.  


“Thank God you got better now, I think it’s the best early birthday present ever,” he cooed, not even realizing his mistake.  


“What?”  


“Wh– oh, nothing! Nothing–”  


“Davey! When’s your birthday an’ why didn’t you tell me nothin’?”  


“Because I didn’t want you worryin’ about it and making yourself even _more_ sick,” David defended, crossing his arms barely. “But, it’s next Saturday. The twenty-first. That’s… eight days from now,” he added, Jack’s eyes widening and causing him to shake his head.  


“You aren’t getting me anything.” The firm words had no effect on Jack, instead making him laugh.  


“Like hell I ain’t! How old are y’gonna be?”  


Another sigh. “I’m turning eighteen. Legally an adult.” Jack perked up a bit. No, a _lot_ , curiosity glimmering in his eyes.  


“Really? We’s both gonna be adults then!” It was David’s turn to be confused, his eyebrows furrowing as he waved his hands to cut Jack off.  


“You’re eighteen? When’s your birthday?”  


“No, no I ain’t eighteen yet. Next year. I’s just sayin’. But July twenty-fourth, t’answer your question,” he hummed, then quirked an eyebrow. “Guess we can’t be together no more. You’s an adult an’ well, I ain’t. That’s weird.” The teasing nature of the words had David rolling his eyes, something that seemed to happen rather often when he was in Jack’s presence.  


“One, I’m not eighteen yet. Two, I’m not even a whole year older than you. It’s nine months. Three, there are plenty of couples who have _way_ more than a year between them. It’s not like it’s uncommon,” David pointed out, deeming Jack’s resigned pout a satisfactory response as he smiled. He reached over and messed with the bedraggled brown locks just out of habit, relishing in the moment as Jack leaned against his touch, slowly coming to rest against his side. The room was quiet, before David spoke up once more.  


“I don’t need a gift from you, this would be a great way to spend my birthday in itself,” he mumbled, “And I’m very glad you’re feelin’ better.” Jack flicked his arm, before winding his arms around it, pressing his face to his shoulder.  


“Love ya,” he said to the boy, happy to hear the words, but already planning what he could do for the boy’s birthday. He could paint him something small – that could be done in a week for sure. He knew David was a fan of spring. (He’d gone on and on about it once before when they’d slept at the Jacobs’ house.) A landscape was easy enough, and he’d most definitely be able to get it done. So it was settled. He drew from his thoughts as David relayed a quiet _“love you too,”_ leaning up to press a lingering kiss to his jaw. Jack continued to move upwards, though, a playful little smirk forming as he inhaled and blew air into David’s ear. The yelp that sounded had him cackling, David releasing him and pulling an almost offended look.  


“What was that for!?”  


“You’s always s’posed to be surprised in a relationship. Gotta keep ya on your feet,” Jack replied simply. David gave him a look.  


“Go back to being sick.”  


_“Rude.”_  


. . .  


Frankly, had the boy not shown the others that he was feeling leagues better, they would have assumed he was still ill. He had more noticeable bags beneath his eyes, as though he’d gotten into a fight with Oscar or Morris. But, he seemed very excited. He knew David might be upset by the notion, but he had been up for much of the nights that single week working on his present. A picturesque landscape of a small, indiscernible house, blooming flowers and lush grass surrounding it. The sky was a soft baby blue, dappled with cottony clouds. The lights inside the house gave the windows a golden tint, and overall, it felt very comforting. Alongside that, was a portrait of David that Jack had done from memory. The portrait itself was reminiscent of the very quick drawing he’d done what felt like years ago. Now, though, he didn’t feel worried about it being seen. For the most part. A few boys, (also known as JoJo and Ace), had popped their heads into his room, and asked how he could get such a proper likeness of the Jacobs boy. His immediate – and rather defensive response – was that he could draw any of the boys from memory. While it was true, both of them could tell that _something_ was up. But, neither of them said a word. Not to Jack at least.  


Nor did they say anything to David. The taller boy garnered a few curious glances, though, when he showed up to the Lodging House that Saturday. He’d walked up to Jack’s room, the boy watching as Jack practically scrambled to hide something.  


“Jack… what’re you doing…?”  


“Happy birthday!”  


“Oh–” David began, being quickly cut off as Jack ran over, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he cooed, Jack pressing a soft kiss to his lips with the promise that no, he wouldn’t get David sick with the contact.  


“‘Sweetheart’? That’s a new one,” Jack noted, but the blush growing on his cheeks showed that he didn’t really care. “Why’d you come over here? Wanted t’hear me say happy birthday?” David snorted, then shook his head.  


“Well– sort of. I wanted to know if you wanted to come over to my house. To celebrate. My mom’s made cake and my sister helped decorate and they’d like to see you, y’know,” he explained, looking at Jack with a hopeful little smile.  


“‘Course, we leavin’ now then?” He raised an eyebrow, David nodding. Before he could give a real answer, Jack perked up a bit more. “What kinda cake d’you got?”  


“I’m not sure. Guess we’ll find out when we get there.” The smile on his face was genuine, playful even. “I mean, I’m hoping for chocolate. My father and Les– really everyone in my family but my mother prefers chocolate, so. It’s most likely.” Jack crawled away from him, nodding in the process as he grabbed the sketch from beneath his pillow. A brief once over, and the shorter boy was handing it over, a proper smile on his face as he raised an eyebrow.  


“Happy birthday. Again. This ain’t all you’s is gettin’, neither,” he said as he pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. The expression on David’s face was priceless. Jack wished he had one of those fancy cameras to take a picture of it; the subtle shock that graced his awkward smile, the golden light in his hazel eyes, and the darkening blush in his fair cheeks.  


“Jackie…” he breathed, “This… this is incredible…! You really didn’t have to– how’d you get it to look like me?” David rambled, slender fingers trailing over the surface of the paper carefully so as not to smear the charcoal. Jack simply shrugged, his own cheeks flushed thanks to the nickname that slipped so easily from David’s lips.  


“It ain’t nothin’, really. I look at you’se enough, so’s ‘s kinda just… in my head. All th’time.” The smile on Davey’s face only prompted a wider one on Jack’s, who fiddled with the blanket on his bed almost shyly. _Not_ something David regularly pinned on Jack. Slowly, he leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the shorter brunet’s lips. The gentle quiet fell over them and lingered there as David’s free hand came to rest against Jack’s jaw. Pulling apart, the two hardly broke eye contact, the prior humming.  


“Now, I thank you for this. My folks are waitin’. Let's get going,” he spoke calmly, pulling away after another chaste kiss to Jack’s cheek, and with the drawing in hand, he moved for the door, waiting against it. Jack pulled his too-tight shoes on, lacing them up with questionable accuracy, before quickly standing to meet him. David left the room before him, giving him the perfect opportunity to grab his small painting without it being noticed. He simply put it in his satchel, trying to come up with an excuse for it. He figured that if he was questioned, he’d simply say there was a surprise inside. That would work. The boys downstairs were curious as to where the pair was going, nonetheless, especially since it appeared that Ace or JoJo – Jack doubted it was the latter – had told the other boys of Jack’s relatively unusual defensiveness over Davey. Fantastic. Luckily, the taller interjected, explaining that his family wanted to see if Jack would come over given the occasion. That got them outside quickly, Jack sighing out a thanks before they began the walk to the Jacobs residence. Les was waiting outside, looking washed up and bright eyed as ever as the pair strolled into view. The excited _“Cowboy!”_ that passed his lips was unavoidable, and put a wide smile on Jack’s face as the smaller boy ran over to them.  


“Heya Jack! Guess what?”  


“What’s that?”  


“It’s David’s birthday!” He cried, grabbing onto his brother’s arm with his ever familiar childish enthusiasm. David didn’t even bother to move his arm away, instead putting his hand on Les’ shoulder. Jack let out a snort of a laugh, nodding a bit.  


“I heard, I heard. He’s old now, ain’t he?”  


“Yep! Eighteen. Aren’t ya as old as he is?”  


“Nope. Not yet, I still gots another year ‘til then,” he explained, glancing up as he saw Sarah waving at them from the rooftop. He waved back, Les’ gaze following his own.  


“Oh. Well.. c’mon! Mama made cake and we have to eat dinner before we can have it, and the quicker we _eat–_ ” David cut him off with a stern look.  


“If you eat too quick, you’re gonna make yourself sick. So we’re gonna take our time, got it.?” Jack couldn’t help but let out another small laugh, David’s half-glare now directed at him, and properly shutting him up. He’d worry that Davey was actually mad, but he caught sight of a smug smirk on the latter’s face as he turned to walk inside. Jack followed, and immediately took a deep breath in. It was practically habit of him now, whenever he went over to the boy’s home. The air just seemed to smell a bit sweeter. Maybe it was because the house was leagues cleaner than the Lodge House, or maybe it was because there were girls there and it wasn’t a house full of twenty odd something boys. Maybe it was the fact their clothes were presumably washed regularly, and they actually had food cooking more often than enough. It was some mix of those, Jack was sure. But he loved it. Besides, it smelled of Davey. Or, maybe David smelled of it. He wasn’t wholly sure, but either way he loved it.  


“It’s nice to see you, Jack,” he heard a feminine voice, turning to see Mrs. Jacobs smiling at him, apron stained and hands extended so as to cup his face to leave a soft kiss on his cheekbone. “I take it you’re feelin’ better?”  


“Yes, ma’am, an’ all your help was– well. Helpful. The boys an’ I are real thankful for it,” he hummed, watching as the woman of few words smiled, then turned back to finish dishing out food for supper. Mayer greeted him next, only to be interrupted by Sarah, who as always was almost teasingly more excited to see Jack than her own brother. Especially today; Jack could tell just by that mischievous glimmer in her eyes.  


“I’m here too, Sar…” David huffed, Sarah grinning up at him and releasing Jack to hug her brother.  


“And it isn’t just _your_ birthday, little brother. Stop whining,” she announced, the rolling of David’s eyes an incredibly common sight.  


“You were born… what? Half an hour before me? Shush,” he informed her with a shake of his head.  


“Still, I’m older then, aren’t I?” She cast a glance back at Jack, who looked far too amused with the antics. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?” She then said, which sent Jack into a barely concealed fit of laughter, David not even trying to stop him other than a swat to the shoulder, before going to sit at the table. Soon enough, the table was full of people. Dinner was served, and Jack flew through his, though, he minded his manners to an extent, and did try and slow down just for the sake of David. Cake was what he (and Les) were not-so-secretly waiting for. Even David appeared a bit more eager when the sweet was mentioned. Both he and Sarah’s eyes lit up at the sight of it, carried in by their mother on a silver looking platter. And yes, it was chocolate. The two whispered something to their mother before pressing kisses to her cheeks. Esther set the cake down, her hands clasped over her heart as she looked down at her oldest children.  


“You two are getting so big… _adults_ ,” she sighed, leaning down to kiss both of their foreheads. _“Yom hu’ledet sameach,”_ she cooed then, David and Sarah murmuring a soft thanks, and giving the older woman a hug each, before the cake was served. The conversation was as gentle as before, laughter bubbling in much of the family whenever they glanced over at little Les, whose face was practically covered in frosting. (Jack was no better, but he wiped away most of the evidence with a napkin before anyone could notice.) Esther rose from the table to search a locked cabinet, pulling out two small, ribbon wrapped boxes, and handing them over to her oldest children. Inside each was a delicate necklace; the star of David dangling on a thin chain. They were fastened around their necks immediately, David taking time to examine his closely as Esther went back, grabbing out a book for each of them. One was a book of poetry, handed over to her son. The other, a book David had seen before; it was a textbook he’d used in school, handed over to Sarah. A small note atop the cover explained why _that_ was the book of choice. Her parents simply wanted her to be able to do more than they had, and Sarah found the sentiment incredibly endearing. Both children thanked their parents, and once the ‘festivities’ had died down, David gestured towards his room, Jack nodding and humming.  


“We’ll be in my room,” the taller spoke, “thank you both for everything,” he added, quickly hugging them both once again, before leading Jack to his room. As the door clicked shut behind them, he turned to face the younger brunet.  


“I think this might be the best present I got,” he declared, smiling satisfactorily at the flustered expression that crossed Jack’s features. Though, the latter had questions. Gingerly, he reached a hand forward to trail along the chain, eyebrows raised.  


“Didn’t know you was religious. ‘S that what your Ma was sayin’ t’you an’ Sarah? ‘Cause it wasn’t nothin’ I’s heard before,” he rambled, pausing. “Am I bein’ rude?” David chuckled, wrapping his hand around Jack’s, and using his free hand to ruffle his hair fondly.  


“Yeah, my family is. Granted we don’t _regularly_ practice. We’re sort of quiet about it all, but they think it’s good to be… quietly prideful, I guess. That isn’t a problem, is it?” He teased, an eyebrow raised. Before Jack could worry himself, he pecked his lips.  


“And she had just told us ‘happy birthday’. In Hebrew.”  


“You know how t’speak it?”  


“Yep. Well, I was better at it when I was younger. It wasn’t my first language, but my parents started teaching me it as soon as they could, just so I’d be able to use both that and English. They wanted to keep those roots alive. As we got older and Les was born, they started using it less and less, not sure why,” he shrugged, Jack rapt by his words. It was fascinating, really. The knowledge that Davey was even more than just big words and good manners. Jack cracked a smile, lost in thought for a moment, before he perked up.  


“Oh– I ain’t your best present. An’ that drawin’, it wasn’t the only one. Hold on.” With that, he let his satchel meet the ground carefully, retrieving the small canvas from inside, and handing it over to David.  


“I remember you tellin’ me ‘bout how much y’like springtime an’ everythin’, so’s… painted you a little spring,” he said, hands stuffed into his pockets as he rocked on his feet. He should’ve braced himself, really, because the force of David’s hug nearly knocked him off balance.  


“You surprise me every day, y’know.. And this…! This is beautiful, Jackie. All the little details are just… just… _perfect._ I really like all the colors and just.. It makes me feel like it really is springtime, which is weird. A good weird, don’t worry,” he rambled on, Jack’s blush only growing and darkening with each little compliment. He didn’t even reply, burying his face in the crook of David’s neck almost shyly. David put the painting carefully on his dresser, moving back towards Jack and cupping his face in his hands as he pulled him into a kiss. Soft, slow, warm. Both of their hands wandered, Jack’s to the back of Davey’s neck, and David’s roaming tenderly down Jack’s side, knowing it always prompted a good response.  


“I love you, Jackie,” he said, taking a slow step towards his bed and moving Jack with him. He loosened his tie just a bit, mostly on account of Jack’s hands finding their way to mess with the knot – a habit formed that he just couldn’t seem to kick, now. Their lips met once again as though drawn together like magnets. A living dream, really. David only pulled back once to leave a myriad of small kisses along Jack’s cheeks, then laughing softly.  


“You’re as bad as Les. I can taste the chocolate on your face.”  


“Can _not_ ,” Jack fired back immediately, snorting.  


“Can so, plus your face is a bit sticky, so you’ll need to wash it,” David informed him, leaving a few more kisses still before nudging his jaw gently with the tip of his nose.  


“Yeah, yeah… I’ll do that before I leave, promise.” Jack let out a sigh, staring up at David and the golden glint of the necklace in the light, almost matching the gold tint in ihs eyes. He caught himself staring, not even stopping as he whispered.  


“You’s beautiful, Davey Jacobs.” The words hung in the air as their activities resumed, never growing too fervent, and almost always interrupted by some amount of bubbly laughter, and hushed voices. They couldn’t recall how long they’d stayed alone, the only thing they really could remember was that before Jack had to leave, they napped, held in the other’s arms. When they woke, and Jack was preparing to go, all David could do was smile.  


“This was easily the best birthday ever. Hands down,” he announced, Jack raising an eyebrow as he moved towards the door.  


“‘S that so? Guess I’s just gonna have to make next year's even better,” he said, sounding simultaneously determined and teasing as he winked at the boy, said his goodbyes, and left into the cool October wind. David watched from his window, before cracking open his book, his heart swelling as he thought of Jack’s promise. He couldn’t wait to turn nineteen.


	4. Différentes Vacances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The newsies themselves knew just the basics of the holiday season. Not like most of them had actually celebrated, but, they knew enough to wish for it. Or did they?

“Davey Jacobs!” The name curled through the evening air, short and simple, followed by the sound of footsteps against the street. The chilled winds carried it through the buildings, the boy in question looking up from his idle spot at the corner. His paper satchel was empty, no longer a seemingly impossible feat for him. A gloved hand rose, waving down the voice that called to it, a smile on David’s face. Seconds later, Jack was beside him, pawing at the satchel curiously before feigning surprise.  


“Empty, huh? Nice goin’, Jacobs,” Jack quipped, Davey rolling his eyes some now as he took in the sight of a smug Jack.  


“‘Course it’s empty, I haven’t had to worry ‘bout not selling out in a while, Jack.”  


“Y’got a point there,” he hummed, grabbing Davey’s hand to examine the knitted gloves that were keeping them warm. “Where’d ya get these?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his pant pockets.  


“Our Ma made them for us, maybe she could make you a pair too?” David offered, Jack quickly shaking his head.  


“No thanks, th’boys would ask where I got ‘em. I don’t want them left out and ah, that’s a _lot_ o’ gloves for your mother t’even think of makin’,” he said with a shrug. David looked ready to argue that, and to press the matter further, but Jack just kept talking.  


“So, Medda an’ I was talkin’–”  


“That can’t be good.”  


“Hey! Anyway, I was chattin’ with Medda, an’ she’s got this… this Christmas show comin’ up next month. She wants us – the boys an’ us – t’come an’ see it b’fore the real guests show up. She’s got this fancy new costume in th’works an’ everythin’.” The boy’s eyes lit up some, eyebrow quirked as he eyed David. The taller looked… conflicted, almost. Jack couldn’t figure it out.  


“Um… sure..!”  


“What?” He asked with a laugh. “Ain’t you sure? Y’don’t have to. I was just askin’ is all.” David shook his head, hands copying the movement in the space in front of him.  


“No– I mean, yes I’m sure. I just… don’t celebrate Christmas.” The boy looked almost nervous as he explained himself, worried by the prospect of a bad reaction from Jack. However, the latter just seemed confused.  


“Whaddya mean? Y’don’t celebrate Christmas? Don’t everyone?” The question was innocent enough, and given that Jack didn’t appear anything more than curious, Davey let out a breath. Then, he shook his head.  


“No. Not _everyone_ celebrates Christmas. Just a lot of people. My family and I celebrate Hanukkah.” The smile on his face was sincere, proud even as he glanced down at Jack.  


“...What’s that?”  


“Well, Christmas is a Christian holiday. The birth of Christ and all. Hanukkah… it’s a Jewish holiday. It celebrates the rededication of the Temple way back when. After the Syrians desecrated it, the Maccabees took it back. It’s eight days long, and this year it starts… the twenty-sixth of this month. We light the the menorah each of the eight nights, we give gifts and everything.” Jack’s expression never shifted from vague confusion, though at least now, he seemed very interested.  


“So, why d’you celebrate that instead o’ Christmas?”  


“Because my family is Jewish, not Christian,” Davey said simply, and with that, Jack nodded. He realized then that they had begun moving down the sidewalk, simply following blindly without another thought.  


“Where’re we headed?” He asked, the other informing him that they were going to the Jacobs’ house, Jack nodding once more. The wind grew stronger as the pair walked down the streets, loose pages of their newspapers flying on their own accord, threatening to hit passerbys with no regard. Well, it was one way to sell the headlines. The pair found themselves shoulder to shoulder, glad that the wind was giving them an excuse to be near one another. David was ready to grab Jack’s hand, and pull him in close, given how much he’d begun shivering.   


“You cold?” He asked, Jack shaking his head and lying through his chattering teeth. The infamous blue shirt of his was old, the once sturdy fabric thin from wear and age, the effects of which began to show themselves.  


“Nah. ‘M good.”  


“Jack, I can _see_ you shaking,” David commented, Jack crossing his arms a bit tighter.  


“Then why’d y’ask if I was cold if you knew the answer?” The taller found himself quieted for a moment, head shaking.  


“Because I wanted to see if you were still gonna be stubborn.”  


“...Ass.”  
  


The inside of the Jacobs’ home was warm as ever; Jack relaxed the second he entered, leaning against David for the brief moment they were alone. Les came bounding over, though, interrupting the moment.  


He’d stayed home that day, on account of his coat having a nasty tear in the sleeve that he claimed was from a fight. (Davey was with him. The sleeve caught on the edge of a wagon and tore.) Jack sat beside him, listening to the boy’s numerous complaints about having to stay inside, while David went to search for Sarah. He figured the girl would be able to help more with explaining the holiday, given that his own explanation didn’t seem to help. The eldest Jacobs’ child was in the kitchen, sat at the table and mending Les’ coat. She perked up at the sound of her name, hazel eyes finding those of her brother.  


“David, what is it?” She asked, smiling gently.  


“Well, Jack’s here. If you wanna say hi, but I need your help with something. With him. He wants to know about Hanukkah,” he explained, Sarah’s eyes lighting up from the minute David mentioned Jack. Instantly, the nearly stitched coat was discarded on the table, the girl quickly getting up and into the living room. Had Jack and Les been any closer, she would’ve toppled right over them. Luckily, she stopped the second before, moving to sit beside them, Davey following suit.  


“Hello, Jack,” Sarah hummed, letting him get a quick ‘hello’ in before continuing. “David said you wanted to learn about Hanukkah?”  


“Well, ‘s somethin’ different. An’ I don’t wanna be rude or nothin’.”  


“That’s smart. Well, David probably gave a little explanation.The rededication of the Temple, eight days long, all that?” After Jack nodded, she smiled. “Well, I don’t know if you remember, but on our birthday our Ma gave us a little birthday wish in Hebrew. We don’t… we aren’t consistent practicers of our religion. We’re more quiet about it, but we still celebrate Hanukkah. So on each of the eight nights, one candle of the Menorah is lit. There’s nine candles, technically, and the higher candle is lit first. We use that one to light the rest. We bless the candles before we light them, too. Each candle represents a day that oil lasted, because it’s considered a blessing it lasted so long, seeing as there was only enough oil to last for one day,” she explained, Jack’s brows furrowing as he nodded slowly.  


“D’y’just light the candles…?” 

“Well, that’s a major part of it. We play games, too, with a dreidel. Les is very good at it.” At the mention of his name, Les nodded excitedly, clambering over Jack and beginning to explain the rules of the game to him.  


“Also, Jack, about Medda’s, I’d be happy to go. It’s not a big deal, don’t worry,” he hummed and ruffled the boys hair. Jack leaned against him, a curious glance coming from Sarah, though she said nothing.  


‘Nothing’ seemed to be the best choice of words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again — sorry for such a late update. I really really really wanna get back on track.
> 
> Also, I don’t want to offend anybody so please tell me if I wrote anything incorrect about Hanukkah and it’s history and significance, thank you.


	5. Intestin Tordu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prospect of a new year is enough to worry anybody. The idea of being alive to face a new _century?_ That was a new one.

“Wha’s th’point of startin’ a new project if you ain’t done with th’last one?”  


“‘Cause, Racer. I got a short attention span, an’ a lotta paint. Well… not really. I’s runnin’ low,” Jack said, the paint covering his forearms with a masterpiece of its own. The canvas in front of him was a hodge podge mess of oranges and blues, the cityscape against a sunset. For once, Santa Fe wasn’t his muse. He felt at home, in the city. The boys were there, _Davey_ was there… that’s what was important. He had reason to stay, and with the holidays looming over him, he couldn’t help but think more and more about them. 1900. A new _century_ , and he’d be alive to witness it. Wasn’t that something? He thought about it solely because of just how excited David had been about the idea:  


_“It’s just another year, Davey.”  
_

_“No it’s not! It’s an entirely new_ century! _And we’re still young! Gosh…”_  


__His enthusiasm was well received, at least after a few conversations on the topic. Both boys always found themselves discussing what the new year, the new century, would hold for the two. They could strike a newspaper, maybe they’d be allowed to hold hands in public next. Well… Jack wasn’t convinced. Every time he thought about he and David – all the times they’d nearly gotten caught, or when Katherine found them out – his chest grew tighter, his ability to breathe declining with each new thought. For all they knew, the new year would only bring more tribulations. It was a new chance at getting caught, or separated, or–  
_ _

__“Jack? You’s starin’...” Race commented, the other’s head picking up and meeting the concerned gaze of his friend.  
_ _

__“Oh. It ain’t nothin’, really. Just… thinkin’ bout what t’add next. ‘S lookin’ kinda… dull.” Jack cocked his head to the side. Black buildings, the vibrant sky. A moon. _That’s_ what he needed.  
_ _

___“Its Latin name is Luna. It’s hundreds of thousands of miles away, and it’s this.. What was it, David?”  
_ _ _

___“It’s a natural satellite of Earth. It orbits around us like we do the Sun. That takes about a month. And it’s in synchronous rotation with Earth–…”  
_ _ _

__He dipped into the paint slowly, mixing them to try and get the proper color. Pale yellow covering his brush, Jack moved back to the canvas, adding the last few touches, before sitting back on his feet. With a huff, he rubbed his eyes, tossing the brush down.  
_ _

__“Wasted m’paint for nothin’.”  
_ _

__“It looks fine.”  
_ _

__“No it don’t. It’s stupid.”  
_ _

__“Whatever y’say. Betcha you could make some money off of it,” Race said as he stood up, poking Jack in the shoulder and walking out.  
_ _

__“Make money off of it… sure.” An eye roll and some whining later, Jack was packing his paints up, his thoughts once again travelling to David. Really, what _could_ the new year bring? He doubted people would suddenly become… what was the– tolerant, of the life he and David, along with many other people like them, lived. Secret, precautious (even if a few of their little ‘escapades’ were far less than careful). What a life that would be… frankly, the only places they truly felt safe, were in the lodgings, or the theater. Through the grapevine, and various articles in the paper, they’d caught wind of some dive in the Bowery. Full of ‘immoral character’ and ‘corruption’, Jack had found it amusing that the papers deemed it _so_ bad, that the place had to be moved. Not once had they considered actually stepping foot in there; David thought it too risky, that bulls could show up any minute and send them to the Refuge, or worse, kill them on the spot. Jack, for all the confidence he had, had no intentions of seeing anybody he knew on accident. He was known by plenty of kids, and with the strike having passed, their names weren’t exactly unheard of. Word got out about either of them...  
_ _

__He realized he was staring again. Off into the corner, this time. He shifted his gaze over towards the window, the afternoon sun warming his skin despite the weather. Jack could see the frost on the glass, getting up and touching it gingerly. He could almost hear Davey’s chastising voice in the back of his head, warning him that he could get sick. Frankly, some days Jack felt that Davey was more of a mother to him than a boyfriend. Maybe he needed it. He couldn’t tell. A quick survey of the room proved that Jack needed some help here and there; what with the art catastrophe, the scattered old papers, crumpled drawings… it was a disaster. Sure, he liked to pass it off as his ‘creative output’, but nearly every newsie knew that it was simply Jack’s inability to focus on one thing at a time, nonetheless long enough to clean up afterward. Though, through the chaos, he found his trusty blue shirt, having taken it off to keep it from getting dirty. Once it was on, Jack left his room with an idea in mind. Medda’s upcoming performance had piqued his interest from the beginning, moreso now that he knew he’d have a date.  
_ _

__The newsies hadn’t made note of Jack’s exit, or well, they just didn’t care all too much. They weren’t about to follow him out, that was for sure. New York weather was giving them a run for their money – if they weren’t out selling, they weren’t outside. Even with their layers of clothes, the newsies could hardly stand the winter weather. Their long sleeved shirts had grown thin from years of wear, and mending could only do so much. Jack was willing to brace it.  
_ _

__While not necessarily a long walk, the journey to the Jacobs’ home felt like centuries once he’d made it. Red fingers curled into a ball, Jack knocked on the front door, trying to lessen his shivering. Sarah was the one to open it, a smile on her face as she pulled him in. The sudden warmth of the room had his cheeks flushing, though he couldn’t be ungrateful for it. The midday atmosphere was as inviting as ever, though there wasn’t the usual hustle and bustle energy that dinner time at the Jacobs’ held. In fact, it was rather quiet. Esther was sat in her chair, knitting what looked to be a scarf, while Les worked on something in a notebook. Jack couldn’t see David, assuming the boy was in his room, and well, Sarah had answered the door and his question.  
_ _

__“David’s in his room, you can go see him, don’t worry.” With that, Jack greeted the rest of the family, and hurried to find the boy. It didn’t take long, given he was simply sat in his bed, near surrounded by papers and books – his version of Jack’s ‘creative output’. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, wearing what looked to be pajama pants, and a wrinkled undershirt. The floor creaked beneath Jack’s feet, David’s head perking up almost immediately. In an instant, the stress in his eyes melted, replaced with a gentle fondness.  
_ _

__“Jack! What’re you doin’ here?”  
_ _

__“Came by for a visit. The boys’re bummin’ around an’ all, m’paintin’ just ain’t workin’ out. So, I stopped by. Wanted t’see if you wanted to go by Medda’s or somethin’?” Jack asked as he leaned against the door frame, taking in the sight of a slightly dishevelled David. He raised an eyebrow when he didn’t get a response.  
_ _

__“Well?”  
_ _

__“I’ve got work…” David said, gesturing grandly to the open textbooks at his sides, and the papers in front of him. Though, with a look back at the door frame, he sighed.  
_ _

__“Alright, fine. Just for a little bit. But then I’ve gotta come back and finish this.”  
_ _

__Jack was at the bed in a second, moving books (carefully) out of the way as he practically pulled David to his feet, ushering the boy about the room so he could get dressed. Proper pants, another shirt, shoes–__  


_“C’mon,_ Davey!”  


“Jack, _hold on_.” David sighed, waving his hand in an attempt to pacify the ever impatient brunet at his side. Not that it worked, Jack’s whining growing more frequent, now accompanied by tapping and sleeve tugging. Shoes tied, David lifted his head to look at Jack like he would his brother, mild annoyance crossing his features. Jack stared back down, biting his lip and tossing a small smile his way. David broke, and shook his head fondly with a snort, standing up.  


“Well,” he began, gesturing towards the door. “Let’s get going.”  
  


__“Why’re we goin’ to the theater again?”  
_ _

__“‘Cause, ‘m bored. An’ I wanted t’ask Medda about her show comin’ up for Christmas… actually, y’didn’t have to come if that’s… bad, or somethin’–” Jack explained, quieting with a shake of David’s head.  
_ _

__“It’s not bad. Besides, I know a few families nearby who celebrate both. It doesn’t bother me, or my folks. So don’t worry.” Jack simply nodded then, hands at his sides as he looked over at David with a smirk. It didn’t go unnoticed for very long.  
_ _

__“What’s that face for?”  
_ _

__“What face? Can’t a fella just smile?”  
_ _

__“Not when you’re _smirking_. There’s a difference.” Jack huffed, a soft laugh of almost defeat as he shrugged.  
_ _

__“What can I say? Y’look like the new kid all over again,” he pointed out. He wasn’t wrong, either. With school starting up again, David’s wardrobe consisted mostly of his nicer clothes: Neatly pressed slacks and vests, polished shoes, though a bit worn down now. One thing he hadn’t lost from his time as a newsie, was the hat. Jack nearly expected him to refrain from wearing it, in fear that it would bring about unwanted attention. David had told a few more stories of kids asking him about the strike, being a bit unnecessarily nosey. He recalled an instance of some boy daring to take David on in a fight, all because he heard about the incident with the cops. Thank god for the teacher nearby, who quickly ushered the kid away. Jack was sure it would deter the boy from wearing the cap, however, David seemed to wear it with pride, making sure his hair swooped neatly right out from under it. Or maybe, Jack was just paying too much attention to the little details. Evidently, not things right in front of him.  
_ _

___“Jack.___ We’re here.” David said, straightening himself out given Jack had run into him whilst lost in thought. He apologized quickly, pretending to fix his vest with a faint smile. David rolled his eyes, not bothering to worry as he grabbed his hand and pulled him into the theater hurriedly. The warmth sent faint shivers up their spines, expelling the cold and inviting them in.  


__“Christ, I hate the winter,” Jack griped, his arms now wrapped around himself to make up for the seemly lack of layers on him.  
_ _

__“Since you’re hardly wearin’ anything– don’t give me that look, your shirt’s _way_ too thin. You’re gonna be cold, Jack. Really, you should let my mom knit you something. Or… Sarah, even..! They wouldn’t mind.”  
_ _

__“Davey–”  
_ _

__“I’m asking them.” The taller boy said with an air of finality, smiling all the while. With a roll of his eyes, Jack moved around the stored away props and costume racks, and found a spot to settle down, hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the backstage hands. David followed suite, sitting down beside him and smiling some.  
_ _

__“I wanna get you something for the holidays,” he said, Jack’s eyebrow raising.  
_ _

__“Like what?”  
_ _

__“I’m not gonna tell you, Jack. That’s not how gift giving works. I just think it’d be sweet.” He wound his arm around Jack’s shoulders, pulling him against his side and pressing his nose into his hair. The latter made no attempt at moving afterwards, curling up into David’s side happily. The sound of Medda’s crooning, soulful voice filled the theater for quite some time; they had to’ve shown up at the beginning of her act. Though, as it came to a close, the woman sashayed over, smiling broadly.  
_ _

__“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite newsies…!” She hummed, acting as though she couldn’t see that the boys were practically sitting on one another.  
_ _

__“Momma, you know you can’t pick favorites,” Jack quipped, earning a soft chuckle from the woman in front of him as he and the boy moved apart. David hadn’t heard Jack use that term before, though it didn’t sound like it was the first time.  
_ _

__“Maybe I just meant the two who visit the most,” she replied, waving her finger at Jack and shaking her head. “So, what brings you two here?”  
_ _

__“Oh, we just wanted t’hear more ‘bout your next big performance,” said Jack, looking at her with undivided attention. David took the time to look at Jack. Everyone could see the slight bags under his eyes, ones that never seemed to go away no matter how much sleep he got. He was certain anyone could see the twinkle in his eyes when he was looking at people he cared about – they had to notice, right? If not, they were missing out. Jack truly was a sight for sore eyes… strong shoulders, a warm smile, more a show stopper than Medda, and he was certain of the fact.  
_ _

__How long they spent on the floor of the theater, he didn’t know.  
_ _

__..._ _

__Despite not celebrating as much as others, David couldn’t help but get excited as Christmas rolled around. Snow lined the streets (which was _horrible_ for the boys selling), and flurried down gently from the sky, the air smelled of soot and something sweet, David pinning it on whatever cookies and cakes people must’ve been making in celebration. He felt the joy tinging the air, all the way down to his reddened fingers, in which held a wrapped gift, the words ‘To Jack’ inking the paper neatly. The trip down Duane Street seemed much longer than usual. David decided it was a combination of the cold weather and the eagerness to just get into the Lodging House. He knew the boys would ask what he had, thankful that his wrapping skills were, at the very least, suitable. His gaze travelled down to the gift, a frosty sigh leaving him all the while. The other boys surely didn’t get Christmas gifts. No one had enough money to buy each other (or all the boys) gifts, and for that, he wished he’d brought his satchel so he could hide the gift. Maybe his coat would do.  
_ _

__The Lodging House came into view, David bracing himself as he removed his coat and balled it in his arms, safely concealing the present from sight.  
_ _

___“And out of harm's way…”_ he thought, shaking his head as he envisioned himself tripping or slipping, and falling onto the gift. The coat would surely provide some safety, both for him and the present. Albert caught sight of him as he stepped onto the porch, opening the front door in a hurry and pulling him in.  
_ _

__“Are you _stupid?_ It’s freezin’ out there, an’ you ain’t wearin’ your coat,” he said, shaking his head before turning to the few others nearby.  
_ _

__“None o’ you can call me stupid no more! This one’s got a coat an’ he took it off before he got inside.”  
_ _

__“…Nice to see you too, Albert,” David said to the back of the boy’s head as the redhead walked off, curling right back up on the couch. After a moment of curious looks, he realized they looked just barely spiffied up; Albert’s hair was brushed to an extent, Mush looked like he’d shaved. He remembered, then, the entire morning they had planned with one another. Footsteps sounded behind him from the stairs, Jack waltzing down. Albeit, he still looked half asleep, but his sleeves and hands were damp, as though he’d tried washing the paint stains from the fabric and his skin. His eyes lit up once they landed on David, whose expression grew to match.  
_ _

__“Hey! Right on time!” Jack exclaimed, David nodding and smiling.  
_ _

__“Should we head over now, then? So we aren’t late..?” He asked, slowly maneuvering to pull his coat back on while trying all the while to hide the gift. Luckily, Jack had nodded, the boys all hurrying then to get their shoes on and out the door. No one was leaving at a different time. Staying together was their best bet of staying warm, frankly. Though, the sight of twenty something newsies trying to push each other out the door was certainly a sight to see, a few passerbys stifling their laughter. David wondered if the whole ordeal would be more entertaining than Medda’s show.__  
  


__The boys filed in, all sitting as close to the front as they possibly could. Bright eyes fixed on the stage and excited murmuring, Jack found himself quite content. David sat beside him, messing with something with his coat which he’d quickly put on his lap. The smile on his face only made Jack more curious, trying to catch a glimpse. However, David pointed towards the stage, a chiming of bells and a variety of instruments sounding as Medda found her spot center stage. Her costume was ornate as ever – white and gold sequins and gems caught the light, flashes of green and red finding their way, too. The songs themselves had all the boys hooting and hollering. Medda captivated everyone, it was no difficult feat for her. The entire show ended far too quick, Jack and David, along with the others, wishing that they could stay for the real thing. There was some downtime, though. The boys rose from their seats, mingling, rubbing their eyes and complementing Medda. David caught sight of the woman handing each boy a small bag, the sound of clinking signifying coins within. After that was a round of scarves – decorative, it seemed, likely from old shows she’d done. Though, no one was complaining. Those without got themselves some tailored hand me downs, Jack grinning widely at the sight of everything. He leaned closer to David, nudging his arm.  
_ _

__“If I coulda got them this stuff, I would’ve… feel bad.. I got the money Medda gave me, but we’s savin’ all that for food, and with all the boys it–” he began to ramble, David shaking his head.  
_ _

__“Jack, they got stuff they need. Whether it came from you or not it doesn’t matter. Besides, you’ve probably helped ‘em all more than once before, right? It’s okay…” David paused in his words, taking a glance around before pulling Jack to a familiar empty corner, grinning ear to ear.  
_ _

__“Speaking of gifts…” He began, Jack’s eyes widening a little.  
_ _

__“Davey, what did you–”  
_ _

__His question was cut off as he revealed the wrapped gift, handing it over excitedly. Jack looked down at it, fingers trailing over the paper slowly as a small smile formed. Though, it quickly grew to a grin as David insisted he opened it. The paper discarded – save for the part with his name – Jack beamed, pulling David into a tight hug.  
_ _

__“Davey! A sketchpad? Thank you!” He exclaimed, David wincing barely given the proximity to his ear, though his laughter showed he didn’t really care.  
_ _

__“Of course…! I just wanted to get you something special, that’s all… you like it?”  
_ _

___“Duh!”_ Jack said as he planted a kiss on the boy’s lips. “I love it. And you…” he added, not moving himself from the hug. David left a small kiss of his own in Jack’s hair, humming gently.  
_ _

__“Merry Christmas, Jackie.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *inhale* I’m SORRY. The next chapter should be up a crap ton sooner because... let’s say it’s easier to write.


	6. Lèvre Sanglant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wake up to the new century... are things really changing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Apologies for inactivity  
> 2\. Trigger Warnings For!  
> \- Underage drinking (in today’s day and age since the drinking age is 21)  
> \- Homophobia  
> \- “Q” slur  
> \- Homophobic violence  
> \- Vomiting

The week between the holidays and New Year’s Eve was slow going. People often stayed inside, the newsies able to see other children within their homes, running about with their new toys, fitting sweaters and trousers, or freshly polished shoes. They couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, though now, they had their own set of gifts. Any newsie from the Duane Street Lodging House could be seen with their flamboyant scarves, a few with new socks, others opting to buy themselves a pair of gloves for the winter selling. They knew they’d need them, especially with how cold the coming months would inevitably be. Lord how they hoped the spring would come soon enough. The only ones who weren’t excited for spring were those with allergies – and of course, the kids who bunked with them. But, for now, they had the new year to worry about.  


New Year’s Day was _great_ for selling: With adults hungover, their inhibitions were lowered, and more often than not they gave full quarters while fishing in their pockets or purses for a coin, not bothering to look at what they’d grabbed. Not a single newsie was complaining, and the absurdity of their headlines only grew. Frankly, if editors and reporters took their cue when coming up with headlines, they’d have no issue selling. That, or if the reporters wrote about more interesting things–  


“Someone’s at the door…!” Albert yelled from the couch, Jack looking at him with a huff. David had come over earlier that evening, his parents having taken Les and Sarah out to Jacobi’s for dinner. Getting out of the house was easy enough; his explanation of simply wanting to see his friends sufficing well enough. Both he and Jack practically laid draped across one another, lazily looking at yesterday’s paper, before tossing it to the floor. Though, at the sound of knocking, all eyes turned to Albert, who’d merely stated the obvious.  


“Gee, Albert. Thanks for gettin’ that,” Jack sighed, rolling his eyes when the redhead gave him a sarcastic nod in response. Moving from his spot on the couch, grumbling all the while, Jack left to see just who was there. None of them were expecting visitors, and frankly, their best guess was Kloppman. So to see a _different_ redhead, one with distinct doe eyes and a slight purse to her lips, Jack couldn’t hide his surprise.  


_“Katherine?”_ He asked, eyes giving the woman a once over as he stepped aside. He figured they were on good terms… or well, decent, at the very least. He knew David was still uncertain about his feelings, even though at the time, he’d been a bit more lenient with her actions. Now, while she _had_ helped with the strike, getting the word out , David couldn’t drop the sour taste in his mouth when he thought of Katherine slapping Jack, or how she went about breaking up with him. He looked past it, though, at Jack’s wishes of trying to keep things, at the very least, civil. Katherine seemed to be doing the same. In her arms rested a bottle, the contents within bubbling happily, the nervous smile on the woman’s face oddly fitting.  


“Hello, Jack…” she hummed, stepping inside as Jack moved out of the way. A shiver ran up her spine, the cold not quite leaving her body. Her smile was tinted red, a bit darker than the rest of her face. Makeup, Jack figured, as he closed the door behind her.  


“What ah… what are you doin’ here?” He asked, not bothering to hide the confusion in his voice. Katherine held up the bottle some, her awkward smile growing some.  


“Denton?” Katherine nodded.  


“Bryan Denton. He’s a new reporter at The Sun, a real nice guy. He and Darcy get along well, talking about presses and all of that…” She trailed off, glancing around the room now. All eyes were on her and Jack, David’s gaze not once wavering. She cleared her throat.  


“Well? Do you guys have any cups or anything? I don’t want to let this go to waste.” And at that, the boys clambered over one another, Race and Albert looking far too eager to try and find their respective things. Jack looked back at Katherine, letting out a small sigh.  


“Thanks, for this,” he mumbled, the redhead nodding and glancing down at her feet briefly.  


“It’s the least I can do… the strike was one thing but, I don’t think that made up for… everything. How’s– How’re you and David?” She asked, almost surprised by the quick survey Jack gave of the room. They didn’t know…  


“It’s good. Great, even. The boys. We haven’t… told ‘em, so.” With a slight nod, Katherine dropped the subject, having learned that prying wouldn’t get them anywhere productive. David walked over, then, his hand holding Jack’s elbow as though to support him. A hardly noticeable movement, even more subtle than how Jack leaned into the boy’s side. Besides, all the boys were handsy with one another – rough housing or chasing or hugging. They had a good cover.  


The noise in the room grew louder than before, all the boys bright eyed and excited by the prospect of getting to celebrate the holiday _properly._ Jack knew it wouldn’t end well – none of the boys could hold their drink. Frankly, the only one with half a chance was Race, thanks to all his visits to Brooklyn. Even he himself stood no chance, but he knew just as well, that that wouldn’t be stopping anybody.  


“Don’t all crowd me at once–” Katherine said, her hands raising along with the bottle. The eyes of every boy followed the bottle almost comically, a small laugh leaving the woman as she noticed.  


“Make a line, would you?” She asked, watching as the sea turned into a single stream of boys, all holding their cups and shoving each other playfully. Jack opted to wait, David sitting with him seeing as he simply wasn’t going to partake.  


As his turn rolled around, every boy had taken to mulling about the lodge, sipping curiously at the beverage they’d been gifted. Their faces gave away the tartness of the drink; all scrunched noses and puckered lips. Though, soon enough the surprise gave way to giggles of amusement, the boys getting used to the bubbly drink. Jack looked out at them all, finding Romeo lounging across Specs, whose glasses were sliding down his nose as he shook his head with a snort. JoJo’s smile was bright as ever as he chatted with Crutchie, both boys animated as they discussed something unheard by Jack. He held out his own cup, Katherine pouring some champagne for him with a faint smile.  


“Don’t get too excited,” she teased, Jack rolling his eyes as he took a long sip from the cup. He learned it wasn’t worth it, features screwing up as he turned towards Davey with a slight nod.  


“How is it?”  


“It ain’t… _bad._ ‘S kinda sour, they’s just.. bein’ babies. And it’s bubbly, so. Add that in there,” Jack explained, shrugging and taking a far more careful sip this time around, before moving once more to sit beside David. He lifted his arm, an eyebrow raised as he gestured to the cup.  


“No, thanks,” David said, simply watching him instead. He couldn’t say he wasn’t curious; every other kid in the room seemed to grow and more and more rambunctious, nudging one another and bugging Katherine for more, to which she happily obliged, pouring herself some once she was given a cup. It wasn’t long into the night before David realized:  


None of these boys had drank before.  


Looking around, he could see the signs. Bumlets sat against the wall, his mop of black hair falling in his eyes. JoJo was grinning even more than usual, cheeks rosy as though he’d been running. Blink kept messing with his eyepatch while Albert tried asking for it more than once, Race snickering from beside him. Even Jack wasn’t immune to the drink.  


He practically laid across David’s lap, his own face flushed as he stretched out, taking up far too much of the couch. David would’ve been worried about being caught had the other boys not been drunk themselves. This was nothing. He even let a hand rest in Jack’s hair, smoothing it down gently and moving it from his face.  


“Havin’ fun?” He teased, Jack nodding slowly as he smiled crookedly up at him.  


“Great. Now I can’t move.” The smile on David’s face reassured Jack, though, that he didn’t particularly care. Looking up at him, he reached a clumsy hand up to brush along his cheek.  


“Y’look great,” Jack hummed bluntly, David shushing him and shaking his head with his far too fond smile.  
__

_“Jack!”_ Came a shout from across the room, the boy in question groaning as he looked over. Race was sulking, the cigar he usually had missing. When Jack furrowed his brow, the blond gestured towards Albert, who looked far too smug for his own doing.  


“What’d’y’do?” Jack slurred, listening to the long winded ‘he started it!’ spiel.  


“So, I threw it outside. ‘Cept, we can’t see it no more. Would ya look for it? So he shuts up,” Albert concluded, Jack huffing rather dramatically before sitting up.  


“I swear… I’s gonna kick you two out.”  


“You can’t do that! That’s Kloppman’s job, an’ he ain’t gonna do that t’none of us!”  


“Yeah, yeah. Pipe down would ya? Lemme get my shoes on…” he said, rolling off of David’s lap in the process. He didn’t try and stop him, watching as Jack pulled on his too tight shoes and shook his head, grumbling all the while. The door opening sent a chill through the room, most boys yelling for Jack to shut it. He tossed a glare back at them in response before heading out into the streets.  


Houses were glowing from indoors, cheers and laughter finding their way through the windows and doors and out onto the street. They brought a smile to the teen’s face, wondering how on earth these folks would be able to manage work the next morning if they were pulling anything like the newsies. Working drunk. That was a disaster waiting to happen, really. Accidents in factories were already commonplace – add being drunk? Jack almost hoped something good made the headlines for once. He felt the effects of the drink already, his steps a bit misplaced every once in a while, and the streets seeming a lot longer than he remembered. He searched the ground for any sight of Race’s cigar, brows furrowing and head tilting when he came across things that… _kind of_ looked like the cigar. Like the broken piece of wood, or the neck of a bottle. Jack shook his head, finding himself much further from the Lodge House than he remembered walking. Street lamps flickered above his head, the din of parties having died down tremendously. Then again, Jack wasn’t near very many homes, he noticed. Run down shops, discarded pieces of broken equipment (he even caught sight of an old wagon wheel, wondering if it was one from the trolley workers). His arms moved from his sides, shrugging in confusion as he turned back around, ready to just go home and tell Racer he was out of luck. His hands found his pockets once again as the cold began to get at him, beginning to walk back down where he’d came.  


“Kelly? ‘S that _the_ Jack Kelly?” He heard a slurred voice say, eyebrow raising before he caught sight of movement from an upcoming alley.  


“I think it is, Morris… and without his little friend,” came a different voice, Jack quickly putting two and two together. The Delancey’s, fantastic.  


Jack picked up the pace, turning down a different alley to try and avoid the confrontation. The sound of shoes against the pavement picked up and a hand grabbed his arm, pulling him backwards. The smell of alcohol, _proper_ alcohol, stung his nose as Morris grinned smugly at him.  


“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Cowboy? Bet y’felt so high an’ mighty for gettin’ rid o’ Snyder, beatin’ Mr. Pulitzer… I don’t think you’d be keepin’ your job if either of ‘em heard ‘bout your little boyfriend..” he sneered, Jack’s stomach dropping. How could they know? They couldn’t know… they were _careful_. He shook his head, scoffing.  


“I ain’t no queer, boys, sorry t’disappoint. I’s busy, let me go,” he said, trying his damnedest to sound intimidating to any degree. Though, the drinks he’d had weren’t helping him, and he could tell. Oscar shook his head, amused.  


“Think you’re gettin’ off that easy, huh? Somethin’ tells me you’s lyin’. I wouldn’t be surprised none… who knows what you get up to… Morris, why don’t we let ‘im go with a little incentive, huh?” He suggested to his brother, Jack catching glimpse of an ever familiar pair of brass knuckles glinting in the dim light. He sucked in a small breath, before trying to break away from the boys’ grip. The snicker from his side told him that escape wasn’t going to be an option. A panic settled over him, thrashing about now in a fervent attempt at getting loose. Hissed curses fell from his lips, though, as the grip on his arms tightened. Every part of his brain yelled at him to run, even through the haze of the alcohol; _Go! Get away!_  


A yelp rang through the vacant streets, Jack staggering despite being held in his spot. He hadn’t drank enough to cloud the stinging that came from his lip. A quick run over his teeth had him tasting copper, nausea bubbling in his stomach at the thought. That didn’t stop him from spitting at his assailants, halfheartedly meeting his mark. Oscar recoiled, landing a solid hit to his jaw once more, and grinning as Morris pushed at the back of Jack’s knees.  


The ground rushed up to meet him, Jack grimacing at the impact with hardly a seconds rest. He couldn’t tell what was what, anymore. His stomach hurt, sore and most definitely bruised along with his exposed side. His head spun, arms coming up now to block any further blows. Minutes felt like hours, every part of his body aching more than he ever thought possible. Morris and Oscar had left; when, he wasn’t sure. There were no echoing footsteps, no snide laughter. Silence, save for the occasional groan from the battered boy, and eventually, a dull scrape as he picked himself up, stumbling back in the direction of the lodge.  
  


“Ain’t– ain’t he come back yet?” Race slurred, laying upside down on the worn couch as he sighed.  


“I wan’ m’cigar…”  


“Quit whinin’ about it, wouldya?” Albert griped beside him. David sat on the stairs, now, frankly looking worse for wear as he stared down the front door. An hour had passed, at the least, and yet, no sign of the boy in blue–   


“Hey! Didya find–”  
“ _Jack!_ ” David shouted, bolting from the stairs and over to him. Jack had other plans, beginning the laborious journey towards his bedroom before David stopped him, concern etched into his features. He’d noticed the way he swayed when he walked, hardly getting a look at his face before his arm snaked around the middle of his torso. Jack grit his teeth, half following Dave’s footsteps, half being carried up the stairs into his bedroom.  


“What the _hell_ happened…?” David breathed, crouched down in front of Jack as he looked over him frantically. Red stained the fabric of his vest from Jack’s lip– or, maybe his nose– or cheek…  


“Oscar an’... an’ Morris..?” Jack managed, the faintest whimper leaving him as David prodded his figure in an attempt at figuring out if anything was too badly damaged. Soon after, a small frustrated noise left Jack, David looking up at him curiously.  


“They _know_... they know, an’– well I dunno if they do, they kept sayin’ they did an’ all that. They can’t _know_ , right–?”  


David stiffened for a moment, the prospect of being found out making his blood run cold. He shook his head quickly, though, folding Jack’s hands within his own.  


“Hey, hey… they– they can’t know. There’s no way.. They’re just trying to… to get at you, okay? To get at _us_ , because of the strike or something…” David tried, Jack noticing the distinct lack of assurance in his eyes. Though, it soon settled, David moving around the room and grabbing whatever he could to try and clean Jack up. Towels, water, a cotton pad… sure. Jack’s shirt found a spot on the floor, both boys grimacing at the sight of his torso. Red and purple; hardly an inch of his body was free of bruising.  


“Ow– Dave, don’t touch–”  


“I’m sorry, Jackie, I’m not trying to…”  


“Can I go t’bed..?”  


“In a few minutes…”  


Jack whined softly, holding a towel to his lip at David’s instruction. The latter’s shoulders were stiff, his eyes trained on Jack as he worked on getting him as cleaned up as possible. They were blazing, widening as he saw Jack beginning to slump forward, another small groan escaping him. David glanced around, picking up a pajama shirt from beneath the bed. With a silent plea that it wasn’t the same one Jack wore when he was sick, he pulled it over Jack’s head, helping him out of his shoes and trousers and doing his best to get him comfortable in the bed. There was no argument, David not getting much as another word out of Jack before he fell asleep. Dave couldn’t sleep, laying beside him and carding his fingers through his hair gingerly. He didn’t even want to try and imagine what had happened. The grin on the Delancey’s faces, the fear from Jack… it made his blood boil, his nose now pressed against the back of his head as he tried to calm himself down. Quiet whines left Jack whenever he moved, David pulling the blankets over them carefully. He could tell there was a long night ahead of them.  
  


Jack rolled out of the bed, feeling David’s arm fall limp behind him. The room jerked around him, his footsteps unsteady and heavy. A hand came to his stomach slowly, as though trying to will the contents within to _stay_ in. So much for strong will.  


The bathroom seemed to have shown up out of nowhere, Jack grateful for the fact as he crouched down in front of a toilet, staying there for a good half hour. There was no other noise, save for the occasional sniffle, or a low moan. His entire body felt hot and cold at the same time, Jack curling up on the floor as the minimal energy left his body.  


“Jack…? _Jack?_ ” David was awake within minutes the next morning, feeling around the empty bed, first, before sitting up quickly. No Jack. Still half asleep he pulled himself from the warmth of the bed, he crept down the hall, squinting as he looked into nearby bedrooms. Every boy who’d actually made it to their room was passed out, shoes still on a majority of them, in impossibly comfortable positions. David could tell their morning was going to be a rough one… and apparently, so might his. The bathroom popped into mind and view, David stepping inside with an almost pained expression.  


“Jack…” he sighed, taking in the sight of the boy curled up on the floor. Passed out, bruising really showing now in the light of the morning. He looked awful.  


“C’mere…” Crouching down, David managed to pull Jack so he was sitting, waking him up in the process. Jack didn’t put up a fight as he lifted him up, and placed him on the edge of the sink like a child. Quiet muttering and faint birdsong was all Jack heard, before the faucet began to run. David found a washcloth tossed underneath the sink, wetting it and getting a good look at Jack before his hand moved to wipe at his face. Dried blood, dirt, remnants of what little was in Jack’s stomach, all of it came off with a little bit of work, David even getting him to get a drink of water as the faucet ran. Tossing the soiled cloth aside, he continued to search. The small drawers provided a few things; a comb, some mints (he couldn’t go wrong, he figured), and another, cleaner towel.  


“Alright… we’re gonna finish in here, and _then_ , you’re going back to bed,” he said, not getting a word of disagreement from his ‘patient.’ Towel in hand, David began to dry off his face, noticing Jack practically falling asleep all over again. He handed over the mints, watching him pop one in his mouth and grimace as if it were an actual lozenge, before he set down the towel. Jack eyed the comb, eyebrows furrowing subtly.  


“‘S stupid…” he grumbled, a mint threatening to tumble into the sink.  


“What is? This? Why..?”  


“Gonna sleep..” It was a good point; he’d be going back to bed in a matter of minutes, anyway. Why bother fixing his hair? David shrugged, pulling the comb through his hair simply to try and calm him down. It was hardly to make him look presentable – he could do that later if he wanted. Though, David had an idea that he likely wouldn’t want to be presentable today. The entire endeavour seemed to last ages, but a glance down the hallway told him that they’d hardly taken half an hour. The boys were still sound asleep, and the birdsong was still quiet. They had time.  


David wondered if Jack would be able to make it back to the bedroom. On the one hand, he wasn’t _really_ incapacitated, just tired, and hungover… and beaten up. He took a good look at the boy on the sink’s edge; the drooping eyes, the hunched shoulders. He just wanted a little while longer to sleep.  


“Let’s go, Jackie,” he whispered, an arm winding around Jack’s torso, before the other came around the back of his legs, hoisting Jack over his shoulder with a small noise. For someone who hardly got scraps for meals, he sure seemed heavy. With slow steps, so as not to disturb him too much, David made his way back into the bedroom, gently easing Jack back onto the bed. Part of him wanted to make him change his shirt once again, though, one good look at him told David to let him rest. And he did.  


He crawled onto the bed beside him once more, their spots from the night before reclaimed as David carded his fingers through Jack’s knot-free hair. The chirping of birds faded away as the two fell back into the arms of sleep, if only for a little while longer.  


David realized they’d needed it as he woke up to the sound of Racetrack groaning down the hall.


End file.
